


Nuptial

by Arver7, Moit



Series: The Domestication of Stiles and Derek [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Domestic Fluff, Drama, Dysfunctional Family, Fingerfucking, Fluff, Freeform, Hand Jobs, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Oral Sex, Rimming, Roleplay, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 06:35:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 65,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7033819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arver7/pseuds/Arver7, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moit/pseuds/Moit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story picks up after Domestication ends. Stiles and Derek are just a mated pair trying to juggle kids and work and a healthy romantic life. Naturally, none of it goes according to plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just when you thought we were done . . . we're back, bitches! Arver gets 100% of the blame for this one. Here I am, thinking I'm full steam ahead into Star Trek RPF and she proceeds to send me delicious Derek gifs on Tumblr and taunt me by talking about steamy Sterek sex. *sighs*
> 
> Well, I hope you guys aren't too disappointed that Domestication wasn't the end of The Domestication of Stiles and Derek. This story of the series will build up to the promised Sterek wedding. (Seriously, I just can't quit these two. Ugh.)

Stiles buries his face in the pillow beneath his head. He's trying to be quiet. With three werewolves in the house, they should have installed better insulation by now, but life got in the way. No time like the present to regret all his past decisions. 

 

“Derek,” he groans. His voice drags out the second syllable.

 

The slick is running down his thighs, along with Derek's saliva. He hasn't felt this wet and open in  _ months _ . They hardly have time for each other anymore between five kids and jobs and life.

 

The taste of sweet omega on his tongue is one of Derek’s favorite flavors. He delves his tongue deeper into Stiles, scraping his beard along the sensitive rim of his mate’s hole. Derek drags a finger from Stiles’ balls to his taint, coating his finger with slick, and makes his way to Stiles’ entrance, wiggles a finger in with his tongue. 

 

Derek’s cock is hard, throbbing in his sleep pants. It's been a while since he has been able to take his time, tease Stiles until he begs to be full of Derek’s dick. 

 

With two fingers in Stiles’ opening, Derek sits up on his knees, dragging his pants to just below his balls, stroking his cock to the rhythm of his fingers in Stiles’ ass. 

 

“What do you want, Stiles?” He asks his omega. He nudges Stiles’ prostate before slipping his fingers free of the clenching hole, rubs the slick on his dick and lines himself up.

 

Derek hears Stiles’ moans, watches his body tense with anticipation, makes his dick twitch. Derek pushes lightly, adding pressure to Stiles slick, wetness but never breaching the greedy hole. 

 

“Fuck me,” Stiles whispers low enough that only Derek’s werewolf ears can hear him. 

 

He wiggles his ass just a bit, hoping to entice his mate faster. Just another inch and he'll have--

 

“ _ Daddy!”  _

 

_ “Goddamn it, _ ” Stiles grunts into the pillow. Desperate, he reaches back for Derek's cock. “Just put it in,” he whispers frantically. “Pretend we’re still asleep.”

 

It's not that he doesn't love his children--he carried all four of them in his belly for 9 months--it's just that he needs this so badly, and how is he going to answer the door with a boner and slick running down his thighs?

 

Derek leans over Stiles’ back, making sure his body is flushed against the skin of Stiles and his cock nestled between Stiles’ ass cheeks. He feels frustrated that this is over before it  _ really _ started, but he can’t bear to hear their kid working herself up into a crying fit. 

 

Derek nips at Stiles’ neck before he stands, covering his heavy cock with his pants. “This is the third day this week Lucy’s had a nightmare. You know how she gets, babe.”

 

He watches Stiles’ face, sees frustration and resignation cross his beautiful face. It pains Derek to stop, to be so close to feeling the heat of Stiles around him, but being a parent leaves little time for anything else. Derek reaches out, draws patterns on Stiles’ back as an apology, a promise of more to come. 

 

“We can finish after work. I will make it up to you,” he promises in a whisper before he's walking towards the door, covering his body with the bathrobe Conor got him for father’s day. 

 

“ _ Derek _ ,” Stiles huffs, more than a little annoyed. 

 

It's not that he doesn't love his daughter and want her to be happy and nightmare free, but it's just that he's human. A human omega who hasn't felt the pleasing burn of his Alpha knotting him in over a month. 

 

Growling in frustration, Stiles drops to his stomach on the bed. His thighs are soaked, and even to his human nose, the room reeks of omega.

 

Under all the smells of their combined sex, Derek can smell Stiles’ disappointment -bitter under their combined sweetness. He gives Stiles one last look, mouths  _ I love you _ , and opens the door to the sniffles of his four-year old. Lucy has dragged her Winter Soldier plushie to their door, and her  **Team Bucky** pajamas are soaked with her tears. It breaks Derek’s heart.

 

He immediately scoops his toddler, nuzzles her hair before walking to the kitchen. He’ll get breakfast started for everyone. “Hey boo-bear,” he whispers, and hears the quiet giggle his baby girl gives at the nickname. “Why don't we make mommy his favorite pancakes while you tell me about your dream?” 

 

Back in the bedroom, Stiles’s hole clenches around nothing. He waves Derek away though his instincts are screaming for his Alpha to come back.

 

Now he really has to get up, and he only has two options: take a cold shower or jerk himself off. Jerking off has its appeal, but even if he does, it won't be as satisfying as cumming on Derek’s knot.

 

With an exaggerated sigh, Stiles drags himself from the bed. It is going to be a long day, and he has a class full of second graders to contend with. Better go with a jerk in the shower.

 

His shower is quick and perfunctory. Long enough to shoot into the drain and wash the slick from between his cheeks. He tries not to think about his throbbing hole or how close his heat is. Soon enough, they'll be forced to leave the kids with his parents, and they'll have the house to themselves. 

 

He dresses in dockers and a grey polo with a tie Derek had picked out. He runs a bit of product through his hair and forces a smile. At lunch, he may have to sneak into the bathroom for some adult texting. 

 

His first stop out of the bedroom is Conor’s room because he's usually already dressed and ready to go by the time his mom rounds him up. Sure enough, he's on his bed playing some game on his iPad. 

 

“Hey, Monster. You ready for breakfast? I think your dad and Lucy are working on it.”

 

“Uh huh.” Face pinched in concentration, Conor looked up from his game. “I'll be down in a minute, Mom.”

 

Stiles gave him an indulgent smile. They never had to worry about their first born. “Okay.”

 

Teddy, on the other hand, would sleep all day if they let him. Derek claims it has something to do with not having sensitive werewolf ears, but Stiles knows it is simply because their son takes after his mom. Stiles is  _ not _ a morning person.

 

Teddy has wound himself into a human burrito inside his Spider-Man comforter, and only the top of his dark head can be seen. 

 

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Stiles gently peels the blanket away from his son’s face and runs a hand through his baby-fine hair. It makes his heart ache for how fast his children are growing. For the first time in years, they don't have to deal with diapers, but Stiles feels oddly melancholy about it.

 

“Teds,” he whispers. “Time to get up.”

 

“Don’ wanna.” Teddy rolls over and buried his face in his pillow.

 

“Come on. Your dad’s making breakfast.” Stiles rubs his back and straightens out the Spider-Man night shirt he’s wearing. This has been going on for a week, and Stiles is going to steal the pajamas today so he can  _ wash _ the damn things. 

 

“Don' wan’ beckfast.”

 

“Do you want me to call the tickle monster?”

 

“Uh uh.” Teddy shakes his head but doesn't move.

 

“Here he comes,” Stiles says in a song-song voice. “The TICKLE MONSTER!” He runs his long fingers up and down Teddy’s sides just enough to get his little boy laughing and squirming.

 

“Stop!” he says between giggles. “Mom-my!”

 

“Okay, okay,” Stiles says as he stands up. “Are you awake now?”

 

“I guess.” Teddy allows Stiles to pick him up and swing his feet to the floor. 

 

“There's your clothes,” Stiles says, pointing to a shirt and pants laid out on the dresser. They'd been practicing getting ready  _ the night before  _ so Teddy would begin to do this himself. “Can you get dressed and come downstairs for breakfast?”

 

Still half-asleep, Teddy nods, but at least he is upright. 

 

“Good boy.” Stiles bends down and kisses the top of his head. Two down, two to go.

 

They'd kept Natalia and the twins in the same room since they were born because it just made sense to have all three babies in one place. As they’ve gotten older, Stiles and Derek have discussed the possibility of moving Natalia into her own room. Thankfully, she's not yet old enough to scream at her parents about a need for privacy.

 

Natalia's still asleep, but Remy is laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, so Stiles goes to him first. 

 

“Mommy!” He squeals happily.

 

“Morning, baby.” Stiles presses a kiss to his forehead. “Did you sleep well?”

 

“Yeah. Lucy had a bad dream.”

 

“I know. She's downstairs with Daddy making breakfast.” Stiles tries not to feel jealous of his 4-year-old daughter, but it's hard. “Are you hungry?”

 

Remy nods, but he tends to do that a lot. He's an easy, agreeable kid like Conor. Stiles is glad at least a few of their kids got Derek’s disposition. 

 

He helps Remy dress and runs a comb through his hair. Getting the boys ready is always so much easier than the girls. 

 

“Let me get your sister up, and we’ll go find everyone else, okay?”

 

Remy nods again. He's on the floor mashing two of his Little People together, and Stiles shrugs in approval. Anything to keep him occupied.

 

Then Stiles turns his attention to his problem child. It's not that she's the most ill-behaved, it's just that she's a girl stuck between three boys with a sister who gets along with them better than she does. Five, it seems, is a tough age for Natalia. Stiles is dreading 15.

 

“Natty, sweetheart,” Stiles says. He brushes the long bangs out of her eyes. She needs a haircut soon, and that's going to be another adventure. “Baby, it’s time to get up.”

 

Her eyes blink open, and it takes a moment for her to register her surroundings. 

 

Stiles waits with bated breath to see if this is going to be a good day or a bad day. 

 

“Hi, Mommy,” she says and let's out a wide yawn.

 

A good day, then. 

 

Derek is placing last strips of bacon on the plate when he hears Stiles and the kids make their way to the kitchen table. He sets Lucy down and nudges her towards the dining area while carrying the plates of eggs and bacon. 

 

He's setting the table when he see Stiles rounding up the troops to their respective chairs. 

 

“I like those pants,” he says with a smirk. Derek hands Stiles his breakfast, walking behind him to caress (dat ass) Stiles’ thigh before he kisses each of his children's heads in greeting. 

 

“You should. You picked them out.”

 

The omega in Stiles purrs at the attention from his Alpha, but the human part of him (better known as his dick) throbs in desire. He resists the urge bare his throat for Derek. Instead, he situates Remy in his booster seat and makes sure he has a glass of milk next to his plate. Chances are high that he’ll spill it, but he's insistent on using a “big boy cup” like his brothers. 

 

Teddy is next to him with his feet curled under him while he talks a mile a minute about the goldfish his teacher has mentioned getting for the class.

 

Stiles dutifully nods as he takes his own seat between the twins. He spoons some eggs into his own plate and gives Derek a meaningful look. “What time are you guys going to be home today? I have a meeting after work, so if you could pick up the boys, that would be great.”

 

“I have a meeting with some of the architects to expand the gym but I can send Evie to pick up the boys. What do you think, guys? Evie okay?”

 

Derek looks to his sons, Conor shrugs before going back to his breakfast and his game. Ted, has always been close to Eva and starts bouncing in his seat. 

 

“Okay then. It looks like we have a plan. I'm going to shower real quick and then we can go,” he smiles at Stiles and ruffles Lucy’s hair. 

 

A cold, tight feeling clenches his insides as Stiles watches him go. Once again, he's left with five children and no Alpha.

 

*

 

Passing the kids off to Derek between closing up his classroom for the day and going to his meeting is a harried process, to say the least. He hardly has time to peck a kiss on Derek’s lips before he's pulling away and leaving Stiles in a dusty, empty parking lot.

 

He knows it's just his impending heat making him melancholy, but he feels like Derek just keeps leaving him over and over again.

 

The meeting doesn't last long, thankfully--they're discussing some changes to the upcoming budget and mostly everyone is miraculously on the same page. In a little under an hour, Stiles is back on the road home.

 

He arrives to an empty house, and it just feels too quiet. He's not used to so much silence. 

 

Trying to make himself useful, he changes into sweats and one of Derek’s t-shirts and pops a roast in the oven. He roams from room to room, picking up discarded toys and laundry and straightening bedsheets. When had this become his life? Not that he doesn't love every minute of it, but how is he so  _ lonely _ ? 

 

On autopilot, feet carry him to the attic door. He hasn't been up here in years. Not since the twins were babies. 

 

The nest is just as they’d left it: blankets and pillows and Derek’s old leather jacket scrunched up into a cocoon. Years ago, Derek had broken down and bought a new jacket when he knew he'd never get that one back. 

 

Sinking down into the familiar cushion, Stiles lets out a long sigh. He misses being pregnant, misses the feeling of growing life inside him. Misses having his babies--and his Alpha--so close. He is going to weep when Conor eventually leaves for college. 

 

Pulling the leather jacket to his nose, Stiles inhales deeply the scent of his Alpha, his Derek. He closes his eyes against the few tears that escape and falls into an uneasy sleep.

 

*

Derek’s meeting runs long, it takes a while to plan an expansion for their gym. He purchased the place three years ago and created a family gym for alphas, betas, and omegas. He’s proud of the place but it definitely needed work, and with as much business as the place is getting, an expansion is necessary. He feels bone tired after they finalize the plans and the budget, he hasn’t even seen his kids yet and that’s an uncommon occurrence. 

 

With Stiles working and Derek owning his business, Derek has the most freedom to balance his schedule and work around the kids. His gym even has a through child daycare and gymnastics to entertain the children while their parents stay fit. It was one of Stiles’ and Derek’s requirements when they were looking for a place to buy and set up Derek’s business. 

 

Stepping out of the meeting room, he walks towards the children’s gym and finds Natalia on the mat and the twins are playing on the swings. Conor is swinging on the handlebars and Teds is walking with Evie. He takes a moment to watch how big his children are, makes him miss having them sleep on his chest. 

  
Conor turns to him first, having smelled his alpha around before his siblings, and begins to round up the kids. Conor has always been an easy kid, his first born; Derek is so proud of the boy he’s becoming. He hugs his kids as they make their way to him. “Go get your stuff so we can go see mama.”

 

Evie approaches as his kids make their way to their cubbies. “They’re great kids. I can’t believe how much they’ve grown,” she whispers as she stands next to him.

 

“I know,” he sighs. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Hopefully it’s an easier day,” he calls out as he walks the kids to the car and make their way home.

  
  


Stiles jerks awake when he hears the front door slam and the pitter-patter of little feet running across the floor below. He really hadn't meant to fall asleep, and the last thing he needs is for Derek to find him up here. 

 

As quickly as he can, Stiles untangles himself from the nest, tiptoes down the stairs, and shuts the door behind him. No harm, no foul, right?

 

He finds his family gathered together in the kitchen with the smell of roast permeating the air.

 

“Mommy!” He hears, and suddenly he's attacked at the shins by his three youngest. Now, this is what he's been waiting for.

 

“You guys are home late. What took you so long?”

  
  


Derek watches his mate and his children, feels his heart full of love and warmth. “The meeting ran long,” he says as he walks towards Stiles, hugging him from behind to leave small kisses at his nape. Stiles smells like home, always has. But there is something sweeter, like the smell of their infant children, Derek nuzzles Stiles’ neck, inhales deeply to get more of that comforting smell. 

 

He can feel the rumbled contentment of his wolf. He can’t wait to put the kids to bed so he and Stiles could finish what they started earlier in the day. 

 

“How was your day?” Derek asks, nipping softly on Stiles’ neck before stepping back. 

 

“Long,” Stiles sighs. “Harry Potter threw up in Joyce White’s lap, and then I had to deal with George and Landon getting into a fight over crayons. Really, I don't know why I thought I was becoming an educator.”

 

“Sounds grueling,” he responds. It really sounds like a nightmare and Derek is glad he’s hired people to deal with everyone else’s children but his own. 

 

“Give me a massage tonight?” Stiles pulls him in for one last kiss. “Who’s hungry?”

 

The answering chorus of “me!” is music to his ears. 

 

*

Derek runs a warm, soothing bath as he waits for Stiles to finish putting the twins to bed. They’ve both had a stressful day and some time together will help sooth them both. And if it leads to Derek buried in Stiles’ heat, well, that’s even better. 

 

The smell of Stiles’ favorite wolf friendly bath bomb fills the room and Derek strips before getting in and waiting for his mate. 

  
  


Stiles finally gets Lucy to calm down and close her eyes, and he retreats from the bedroom as quietly as he can.

 

Even from the hall, he can smell gardenias and he knows Derek has something special planned for them. Slick begins to seep from his hole.

 

He finds Derek soaking in the tub, and his cock stirs with interest. “You started without me,” he says as he begins to shed his own clothing.

 

“Not with the important part. Get in so I can give you that massage you asked for,” he says through a smile. He loves to watch Stiles get undressed, a decade together and the birth of five children, Stiles is more beautiful. 

 

Derek can feel the stir of arousal in the air, smell the sweet scent of slick coming off Stiles. Stiles is so primed, so ready to be knotted; the stir of arousal becomes a sensual throb. Derek sits up, extends his hand to help Stiles get in the tub without slipping, slides his hands around a thigh to keep him from sitting down just yet.

 

“I want to kiss you...right here,” he breathes against Stiles’ half hard cock. “And here,” he mouths as he slides a finger to Stiles’ entrance. 

 

“Will you let me kiss you where I want for as long as I want?” He ends the question with a bite on Stiles’ hip bone. Derek watches as the mark bruises slightly, the wolf feeling smug for leaving his mark on his mate. 

 

Stiles’s dick jumps, and mhe has to brace a hand on Derek’s bare shoulder to keep his balance. “You can do whatever you want.” His body shivers from head to toe though he's anything but cold.

 

Derek’s eyes are dilated with lust, and Stiles can hardly see his the red rim of his irises beyond the dilated pupils. 

 

Derek swallows Stiles’ dick without warning, feels it lengthen and harden in the cavern of his mouth. He hums, loving the feeling Stiles being around. His hands knead Stiles’ ass, pulling his cheeks apart so Stiles can feel the air on his wet hole. 

 

Derek bobs his head, teasing two fingers on the rim of Stiles’ entrance. He feels Stiles’ hands in his hair, clenching and releasing around the strands as Derek sucks harder, pushes his fingers deeper. 

 

Stiles can hardly think, let alone speak. He clutched at Derek’s hair and tried to hold on for the ride. 

 

Derek watches Stiles as he bites his lip against a groan, and Derek pushes a third finger in and taps at his prostate. Derek swallows around the head of Stiles’ dick and feels Stiles come down his throat. Derek swallows every drop, continues teasing Stiles’ prostate before he lets Stiles slip his dick out of Derek’s mouth. 

 

They're both breathing hard but Derek is not done. 

 

“Turn around,” Derek says hoarsely. “We're not done. I'm going to fuck you with my tongue until I feel your pussy clench around it. Then you're going to sit on my dick while I give you that massage you asked for. And you're going to come. When we get to bed, I'm going to fuck you on your knees until I knot you,” he growled against Stiles’ leg where his mating mark is visible. 

 

“Jesus Christ,” Stiles says around a groan. He feels Derek’s lips against his mating bite, and it sets off a whole new set of fireworks inside his body. 

 

The water sloshing around his knees, he turns slowly to present his ass to Derek. If he leans forward a bit, he can brace his hands against the wall. He knows he needs the support as soon as he feels Derek’s tongue on his ass. 

 

The smooth skin of Stiles’ ass is red from where Derek was kneading it earlier. He soothes kisses along the skin, pulling the cheeks apart to expose Stiles’ entrance. 

 

“You're so wet for me,” he rumbles before leaning in to lick from Stiles’ taint to his hole. Derek presses the pad of his tongue flat on Stiles opening, feeling him clench around air. A drop of slick leaks out and Derek follows it to Stiles’ balls, sucking each one into his mouth. 

 

“Is your dick hard again?” Derek asks, dipping his tongue into the waiting hole. His hand caresses Stiles’ hip and settles over his groin, adding pressure there for a different kind of stimulation. His other hand cups Stiles’ balls, his thumb pushing against the taint to nudge against Stiles prostate from the outside. 

 

Derek’s tongue licks around the rim, pushing in to feel Stiles’  hole tight around his tongue. His hands push a little harder, as he begins to suck at the wet rim, drinking in Stiles’ slick. 

 

“Your pussy tastes so good. I can eat you all night,” he growls before fucking his tongue deeper into Stiles. 

 

“Fuck.” Stiles sighed at the sound of all those dirty words coming out of his mate’s beautiful mouth. “I want to ride your face.”

 

Derek legs go and leans back, offering his mouth and tongue for Stiles to sit on. 

 

“Gimme your hands,” Stiles chokes out. He threads their fingers together, confident that his mate will not let him fall.

 

He braces his thighs on either side of Derek’s head and then proceeds to sit down atop that wicked mouth and warm, wet tongue. No matter how many times he's felt this, it still makes him gasp in surprise. 

 

“You are so fucking good at this,” Stiles whispers. “That's it, Der. Eat my pussy.”

 

Derek sucks and licks, probes and fucks his tongue as deep as it will go. He can feel Stiles’ thighs trembling around Derek and Stiles’ gasps and moans getting louder the more his tongue delves into Stiles’ wet cunt. He lets one hand go to jack Stiles’ dick, urging stiles to come as Derek fucks him with his tongue.

 

Derek’s dick is hard, he can feel it twitch and throb every time his tongue pushes into Stiles’ hole. He can't wait for Stiles to come one more time, he wants to feel Stiles’ clench around his thick cock. 

 

“Right there, right there,” Stiles pants. Clenching his teeth, he comes again over Derek’s fist. He rides Derek’s face for another moment before standing up completely and taking a couple small steps away. “Okay, whoa. I’m pretty sure I’m going to have beard burn for  _ days _ after that one.” 

 

“You're going to feel me for days. Beard burn is the least of your worries,” Derek smirks before he sits up. He jerks at his dick, cupping his balls for more stimulation. 

 

“D’you still want that massage?” Derek leers. 

 

“Yeah, I guess my bath sort of turned into a cumplay scene.” Stiles frowns at the soiled bathwater. 

 

“Hush up and get on my dick,” Derek growls as he holds his dick for Stiles to sink onto.

 

“Yes,  _ Alpha _ ,” Stiles says with a fair bit of sass in his voice. He sinks down into the warm water and sighs with pleasure as he laps against his chilly skin. He crawls closer to Derek until their chests are flush against one another and Derek’s coarse chest hair is rubbing against Stiles’s sensitive nipples. 

 

Reaching behind himself, Stiles took a hold of Derek’s cock. He held it steady as he sank down until it filled him up completely. 

 

Derek waits until Stiles is fully seated before he grabs Stiles’ ass hard. “You really want to sass me now?”

 

He pulls Stiles’ cheeks apart to stretch the skin around Derek’s dick, wanting Stiles to feel the stretch. 

 

“I want to see your cunt stretched around my cock, Stiles,” he whispers in his mate’s ear before he sucks on the lobe. 

 

“Gimme--” Stiles fumbles for one of Derek’s hands. He presses his mate’s fingertips to his stretched rim, the place where they're joined. “How's--how's that?” He clenches and unclenches his muscles around Derek’s cock.

 

Derek gives an involuntary thrust, too turned on to allow Stiles his own pace. He hears Stiles’ gasp as he continues to try to angle his thrusts. 

 

“Fuck me, Derek, fuck me,” Stiles chants. He buries his face in Derek’s shoulder and inhales deeply. “Put another baby in my womb.” The words are out before he realised they were coming, and as his body fills with dread, he prays Derek either didn't hear him or didn't understand him. 

 

Derek eases his thrusts, can feel Stiles tremble and the acrid smell of despair(or something) overwhelms the room. Derek grabs Stiles’ face, caressing his cheeks before he leaves a gentle kiss on his lips.

 

“What's going on, Stiles?” He asks in confusion. Derek thought they were having a good time, finally after so many months. 

 

“Nothing.” Stiles pastes a smile on his face and swivelled a his hips to make Derek groan. “Come on, Fuck me. Make me cum again.” He sets his mouth to Derek’s pulse point and sucks hard.

 

Derek stills Stiles’ hips, wanting to focus on what Stiles said. He groans when Stiles tries to mark him, it never takes for long but he loves the feeling of the omega’s teeth on his neck. 

 

“Stiles, answer me. I can smell you're upset,” he 

 

“I told you it's nothing. I just had a long day. I'm tired and emotional. You know this always happens right before--”

 

“A long day makes you want a baby?” Derek’s brows knit together, confusion and frustration warring with Derek’s need to fix the problem. 

 

Stiles’s breath catches in his throat. He doesn't want to have this conversation here or ever. He knows Derek doesn't want more kids. They talked about it--agreed to it, although Stiles might have been skirting the truth just a bit. 

 

“I didn't say that.” The lie falls easily from his lips. 

 

Derek’s frustration wins out as he hears the blatant lie. He lifts Stiles’ hips as gently as he can, he's angry but even then he doesn't want to hurt his mate. 

 

“What? Derek, no. What are you doing? Come on.”

 

“You lied to me,” Derek growls before getting up, rinsing off the soapy water and the come that lingers in his skin. He grabs a towel to dry off and leaves Stiles sitting in the tub. 

 

“Derek--” Stiles jumps up and nearly slips in his haste to get out of the tub. He catches himself with one hand on the wall. His erection is gone; in its place is heartache. If he'd only learn for once to keep his goddamn mouth closed. 

 

Stiles dries off haphazardly with a towel and jerks on the first thing he touches--Derek’s discarded work shirt. It's sweaty and gross, and Stiles will need another shower later, but at least it falls low enough to cover his ass. He does not want to argue with his mate while feeling so open and vulnerable.

 

Derek puts on a pair of sweats and tries to bring his breathing down, trying to relax and not let his anger get the better of him. He sits on the bed, arms crossed and waits for Stiles to enter their bedroom. 

 

“I don't know why you're so upset,” Stiles says as he bursts into the bedroom. “I shouldn't have said that; I get it. But that's no reason for you to go all Neanderthal-Alpha on me!”

 

The words have his eyes bleed Alpha red. “You lied to me, Stiles,” he grates through clenched teeth. 

 

“Well, yeah, because if I would have told you I wanted another baby, you probably would have forced me into a hysterectomy!”

 

“ _ Well, yeah _ ,” Derek mocks. “We talked about this and you agreed. And if you had changed  __ **_your fucking mind_ ** , we could have talked about it. I love our kids and now that they're older, I wouldn't have been opposed to more!”

 

“It was a fucking  _ accident _ , Derek!”

 

“Blatant lies are  _ NOT FUCKING ACCIDENTS!”  _ He bellows, having had enough of Stiles lying to his face and acting like nothing happened. 

 

Stiles falters as he registers what Derek said. “You’d want more?” he asks in a soft voice. The fight drains out of him.

 

“If only you would have been  _ honest _ with me,” he says, drained and disappointed in his mate. “After all the years we’ve been together, Stiles, you think lying to my face was a good idea?”

 

“You don't know what it's like to be an omega,” Stiles says, but his voice carries no heat.

 

“Don't,” Derek stops him, “don't start with that. We've been to therapy. We learned how important communication is. And I've been trying. But having you lie to me.  _ To me _ ,” he whispers, “I don't know if I can.” 

 

“You want honesty? I'll give you honesty: I've felt like you haven't made time for  _ me _ in  _ months _ . I left the house today feeling like one of those omegas in those OMN (omega movie network) movies whose Alpha just keeps them barefoot and pregnant.”

 

“What do you think tonight was about?”

 

“Don't,” Stiles says, barely controlling the anger boiling under his skin. “Don't interrupt me, Derek.” He takes a deep breath and continues. “I came home to an empty house and it  _ hurt.  _ It literally felt like someone had cut off one of my limbs. And before you get on your high horse and say that I should have told you,  _ I didn't even know.  _ I didn't know I was feeling like that. I didn't know how bad it hurt. And then I went up to the nest and cried myself to sleep. I didn't tell you because we  _ agreed _ , Derek. I was trying to honor the  _ agreement we made _ , and I didn't mean to say what I said and I just--with you I can't--I want to be the perfect omega, but sometimes I don't even know who  _ I  _ am.” By the time he finishes, he's crying and his breaths are deep and hitching. 

 

“You think I'm upset because you asked me to breed you?” He’s surprised. 

 

“ **_YES_ ** !” Stiles sobs.

 

“Stiles, we had an agreement, yes, but we can talk about changing our minds. That didn't make me upset. You smelled sad and I wanted to know why the thought of having another baby made you so upset,” Derek frowns in concern. 

 

“But _ then you lied _ ,” Derek says without heat, “you lied to me like I wouldn't be able to hear it.”

 

“Because I was scared! I might as well have been backed into a corner!”

 

“There's no excuse for lying, Stiles. I don't lie to you,”

 

“Congratulations, you have more self control than I do.” The tears are still falling, and Stiles swipes at them. 

 

“Maybe we need some time apart,” Derek says softly. “You know my past and yet when I tell you how upsetting you lying to me is, all you can do is be sarcastic about it.”

 

Stiles spreads his arms wide. “What do you want from me, Derek? What is it going to take to fix this?”

 

“An apology would have been nice,” he responds as he makes his way to his drawers to get some clothes for an overnight bag. 

 

“Derek?” For the first time, real fear creeps into Stiles’s voice. “Baby, I'm sorry. You know I didn't mean that.”

 

“I try so hard to be everything you want. To put your needs before anyone else's,” he says as he pulls on a pair of shoes, “and I'm not perfect. I don't even come close to getting it right most of the time. But I try.”

 

“Derek,” Stiles says, clutching his mate’s bicep. “Please don't. Please don't leave me.”

 

“I'm not leaving you, Stiles,” he caresses his mate’s cheek. 

 

“Are you kicking me out?”

 

“I built this house for you and the kids. This house will always be yours. I think maybe we just need some time apart but I'll be back for breakfast and to help get the kids ready.”

 

“Derek,  _ please _ . Please don't leave.” Stiles falls to his knees in desperation. “Please, I'm nothing without you.”

 

Derek lifts Stiles and carries him to their bed. “You're everything, Stiles,” he presses soft kisses to Stiles’ cheeks. “I love you.”

 

Tears soak the pillow behind Stiles’s head. “I love you, too, Derek. More than anything. Please don't leave me. I can't--” His breath hitches as he draws it in. “I can't sleep without you here.”

 

Derek lays down behind Stiles, curls around him. “Go to sleep, Stiles,” he whispers. 

 

“No.” Resolutely, Stiles keeps his eyes fixed on the wall in front of him. “I can't wake up to find you gone. That will fucking kill me, Derek.”

 

“Almost like you lying to me gut me,” he responds without venom. Derek is so tired of fighting, so tired of having his mate not trust him enough to tell him how Stiles is feeling. 

 

“I love you, Stiles, but you're going to have to talk to me if this is going to work. I don't want to have the same fight with you over and over again. And lying, no matter how small, will never be okay with me. You of all people should know that.”

 

Stiles turns in Derek’s arms so they can see each other. “I'm sorry. Really, I'm sorry. I just don't know what to do with these feelings that hit me sometimes. And then I build these fantasies in my head that you're going to … Take the kids and run or something. It's like I keep waiting to find that  _ one thing  _ that's just going to tip you off and  _ poof! _ there goes my life.”

 

“Talk to me. Tell me about them. Or we can go back to Tracey if you want,” Derek suggests. 

 

“I think we need to. I'm not . . . dealing well.”

 

“What's going on, Stiles? What are you not dealing with well?” 

 

“Watching my babies grow up,” Stiles says softly. “It's like they don't need me anymore.”

 

“They will always need you. Don't you see the joy on their faces when we come home and you're here?” He asks gently, tracing patterns across Stiles’ exposed thigh. 

 

“It's not the same.” Stiles sighs. “I feel like the only thing I can say is, ‘You can't understand, you're not an omega,’ and I don't want to upset you, but I really can't explain what it feels like to grow a baby inside you for 9 months and then nurse for another year and then . . . Then it's over.” 

 

“I don't know what it's like to be an omega, you're right. But I know what it's like to watch our children grow, healthy and happy, knowing how much an integral part you play in their lives. When I say ‘you're everything’ I mean that. And if you're ready for another baby, we can talk about it and plan it,” Derek finishes with a tight hug. “I love to see you round with my cubs.”

 

“I'm worried it's not going to end, though,” Stiles says, his voice muffled by Derek’s shoulder. “I can't have babies forever.”

 

“Make an appointment with Tracey. See what happens,” the suggestion feels right and Derek hopes it's what Stiles needs. 

 

“Will you come with me?”

 

“If you want me to, of course.”

 

“Thank you.” Stiles rubs his nose against Derek’s cheekbone. “Are we done fighting?”

 

“Never wanted to start in the first place. But, yeah, we’re done.”

 

“Good.” Stiles slings one long leg over Derek’s hip and pulls their bodies together. “I do believe there is one more thing we need to finish, Mr. Hale.”

 

Derek’s pleased growl fills the room, “If we fuck now, I'm going to knot you. Do you think your little hole is ready for this alpha knot?” Derek rubs his hardening cock against Stiles’ balls.

 

“Fuck yes.” Stiles tosses his head back to bear his throat to his Alpha. 

 

Derek’s fangs lengthen at the sign of submission and he bites down gently against Stiles’ throat. 

 

“You're appealing to the wolf,” he growls against Stiles’ sensitive skin, “I'm going to mount you and pound you into the mattress and you're going to take it,” he flips them over, hovering over his mate. 

 

“Show me your ass. Present to your alpha,” he leans back waiting for Stiles do as he's told. 

 

“I love it when you get all growly like this.” Stiles hurries to comply, lifting his ass high in the air. The shirt he’s wearing pools around his armpits, but Stiles can't bring himself to care.

 

Derek runs his fangs along the sensitive skin of Stiles’ ass before he dips his tongue in the opening waiting for him. “You're not wet enough for my knot,” he dips his tongue deeper, coaxing more slick. He sucks on Stiles’ hole before he leans back, spitting on his hand to coat his cock before he lines the head of his cock and Stiles’ entrance. 

 

“Do you want to open that little cunt of yours on my cock? Show me how much you want to be fucked.”

 

Stiles reaches back with both hands to spread his cheeks open. He pants into the pillow beneath his cheek. “How's that? Does it make you want to fuck my pussy?” Just saying the words disgorges another glob of slick that he can feel sliding towards his balls.

 

Derek thrusts forward, fucking into Stiles without giving him a chance to get used Derek’s thickness. He's too turned on, feels the wolf just beneath the surface; being interrupted and then the fight have his instincts to breed and claim heightened. 

 

Derek’s claws emerge, pricking at Stiles’ hips as he thrusts harder and faster. “So tight,” he growls around his fangs. “So good.  _ My omega _ . Just  _ mine _ .” He angles his thrusts, smug that he found Stiles’ prostate by the scream of his mate. He stays in that angle wanting Stiles to come before they knot, wants Stiles slick and wet with come and his pussy juices. 

 

“Dereeeeeek,” Stiles grinds out. “You keep doing that and I’m gonna cum again.” He clenches his muscles around Derek’s dick, can’t wait to feel that knot splitting him open. “I want you to cum, baby. This one is all about you.” Turning his head, he cranes his neck to look over his shoulder at Derek the best he can. All he can see is red eyes and sharp teeth. The sight makes him give an audible  _ unf _ . 

 

“You'll be knotted after you come. Come on,” Derek groans as he feels Stiles’ walls clench around his cock. “I love to see you come apart with just my cock. To feel this pussy- _ my pussy-  _ wet for me.” 

 

“Keep--keep--” but Stiles doesn’t get to finish his sentence. His orgasm hits hard, like a freight train. His body seizes and stiffens. His toes curl tight enough to cramp, and his back arches like a cat in heat. 

 

Derek feels the orgasm hit Stiles before he hears the muffled scream. Stiles’ hole tightens around him and Derek grinds into Stiles prostate, prolonging the omega’s orgasm. 

 

Derek can feel his knot at base of his cock. “ _ Tight, s’good _ ,” he groans as his knot is seated inside Stiles’ clenching channel. He roars as the knot locks them together and he finally comes for the first time in too long. 

 

“Fuck, fuck,  _ fuck,” _ he curses as he feels his come gush into Stiles. 

 

“That’s it, baby,” Stiles pants, rocking his hips back into Derek. “Fill me up. Get me all plugged up with your cum.” The feeling as the knot locks inside him feels like everything in his life slotting into the correct place. 

 

Derek has to make a conscious effort to recede his fangs and claws, he can still feel his eyes glowing red. His hands clasp Stiles to him, one hand at the omega’s throat and the other low on his belly.  Derek leaves kisses and nips on Stiles’ shoulder and neck, marking the omega for all to see. 

 

He breathes against Stiles’ ear, nuzzling their cheeks together to scent his mate. “We’ll call Tracey in the morning. And when she gives the okay, we’ll try for a baby in the next couple of heats if that's still something you want,” his voice is still not fully human. 

 

“Seriously?” Stiles cannot contain his surprise, even as he helps Derek shift them so that they’re on their sides. As much as he loves Derek’s weight on him, he can’t bear it the entire time they’re locked together. “You really think we’re ready for another baby?” His hand traces the one on his belly as he does some quick mental math. “You’d be 52 by the time this one graduated high school.” 

 

“You've got a career, I have the business. We're in a good place. And the kids are out of diapers, so if you seriously want another baby, we can definitely talk about that,” the hand on Stiles’ lower belly presses slightly and Derek imagines it swelling with another child. “Plus, werewolves and their mates age differently than humans so being  _ 52 _ wouldn't really be an issue. Unless, you have a problem with my age?” He says stiffly, feeling insecure. 

 

“Of course not.” Stiles lifts Derek's hand to his mouth and presses a kiss to his fingertips. “Besides: I'll be 44. I just don't want you to say yes and then suddenly realise you've made a mistake. But no, you should know I have no problem with your age. Thinking about you in your early twenties skulking around in that leather jacket? Yeah, I still jerk it to that image when you're not at home sometimes. You know damn well I liked you  _ because  _ you were so much older than me.” He clenches around Derek’s knot for emphasis.

 

Derek’s hold on Stiles tightens as the omega milks his knot. “You were such a horny virgin. And now look at you taking my knot like a pro,” Derek grinds his hips into Stiles’ ass. “We don't have to get pregnant now. We can wait a year or two. I want you to see Tracey first.”     

 

Stiles wiggles his hips back. “If you remember correctly,  _ darling _ , I was too tight to lose my virginity the first time. Another year, though?” He tilts his head back. “I'll be 26 when we get married. If we wait . . .”

 

“We can wait until after we’re married. We have time.”

 

“You don't think we’ll be too old? That I'll be too old to have a baby? The baby and Conor would be like 10 years apart.”

 

“Omegas have children well into their 30s. If anything, we got an early start,” he chuckles against Stiles’ shoulder. They  _ definitely _ had an early start. 

 

“Can we . . .” Stiles licks his lips. 

 

Derek just runs his hand up and down Stiles’ lower belly, offering comfort and reassurance so he can feel comfortable telling Derek what he wants. 

 

“Can we maybe spend some more time in the nest? I know you think it's totally a ‘baby and pregnancy’ thing, but really, it's an omega thing. It's a me-thing.”

 

“Yes. I didn't know. . .” Derek trails off. Of course the nest is an omega necessity, a source of comfort and home. 

 

“I didn't really know, either. That I needed it, I mean. Until today.” He takes a deep breath and lets it out. “Maybe we could talk to Tracey about that, too.”

 

“Whatever you need, Stiles. I wish you knew I'd do anything you needed.”

 

Stiles just wiggles closer and tightens Derek’s hand around his waist. He wished he had the words to tell Derek that even after all these years, he's still insecure. 

 

“It's always been you. You’re it for me,” Derek mumbles before dozing into a deep sleep, sated and happy.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek and Stiles get an unexpected visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, we're still churning this thing out. XD Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing. We really, really appreciate it.

They make their appointment with Tracey for the following Thursday. Derek makes sure he has Evie cover for him, and John agreed to watch the twins and Natalia while Isaac will babysit for Conor and Ted. Derek’s makeshift pack has finally come together, after college Erica and Boyd decided to travel for a couple of years and they're just now settling into their home a few miles away from their alpha’s. 

Derek is content, he has a family and mate he adores. He owns a business that he's actually proud of and could not have done it without Stiles’ support. He's currently in his office, it's spacious and soundproof, and besides his home it's Derek's favorite place to be. He's currently looking over the updated drafts when he gets a text. 

Derek checks the time, Stiles usually texts him during his lunch break unless he's spending time with his colleagues. He swipes to unlock and it is in fact a text from his mate. Derek feels himself smile like an idiot at the message. It's nothing spectacular, just Stiles complaining about the little snot nosed kid who keeps wiping their boogers on the desks and the other kids. 

Derek texts him back and adds a kiss emoji because he knows it makes Stiles happy. He sets his phone to get back to the floor plans, he has to finalize the plans and approve them to move forward. But then he starts thinking about the other night, the way he made Stiles come and he feels his cock fill and twitch in his sweats. Stiles is close to his heat and that makes Derek’s alpha senses primed. 

He locks the door and decides to send a naughty picture to Stiles. He stretches the front of the waistband of his sweats to angle a picture of his growing erection to send to Stiles, and waits for a response. 

Stiles is standing on the playground, a little way off from the other teachers, when his phone buzzes. Knowing it’s his mate, he smiles and looks down at the phone. His eyebrows reach for his hairline. It’s a delicious picture of Derek’s half-hard dick.

Biting his lip, Stiles looks around at the other teachers and the kids playing on and around the jungle gym. He’d never get away with something like that. At least not right now. 

Trying to look nonchalant, Stiles tilts his towards his face and snaps a quick selfie.  _ Sorry babe, playground duty rn. Bathroom in about 5. _

_ I’ll just start without you ;) _

Derek pushes his sweats to his knees, fondling his balls and fingering the foreskin. He uses his business card holder as a placeholder for his phone so he can take video of himself. He videos his thick, hard cock, his balls and turns around to show Stiles his ass before he stops the recording and sends it to Stiles.

The video comes in a text message, and the walk back to the classroom cannot come soon enough. Stiles steps into the hallway to ask the teacher next door to watch his classroom while he runs to the bathroom. She agrees readily, and Stiles can feel his phone burning in his pocket. 

Shutting himself into one of the stalls, he opens the video and turns the volume down as low as possible so that he can still hear it. There’s not much to hear, but it’s a video of Derek showing off his best assets. Stiles bites down hard on his lip to keep from sprouting a boner. He can _ not  _ go back into the classroom like that. 

Hastily, he types out  _ What are you doing to me?? I have to teach. _

Derek sees the message and can imagine Stiles hiding in one of the bathroom stalls. He feels a little bad for disrupting Stiles’ class time, but not bad enough to stop. He begins to record as he starts jerking off slowly, squeezing the head and foreskin of his dick to squeeze out a drop of precum. “ _ Fuck, Stiles, I wish I could lick your hole while I jerk off.”  _ He knows how much Stiles loves to feel Derek’s tongue in his ass, it’s a little evil and a lot tease so Derek groans twice more before he stops the recording and sends it to his mate.

Stiles has to clamp his asscheeks together in an attempt to keep the slick from leaking out. He unrolls a wad of toilet paper and wipes his ass three times to feel dry. 

The quick text he hammers out says  _ That will get me fired and now all I can think about is you licking my hole. I’m going to ride your face when I get home so don’t you dare cum without me.  _

Derek groans louder, getting close as he reads Stiles’ text,  _ I’m going to ride your face _ . Eating Stiles out is one of Derek’s favorite pastimes and it gets him hornier. He clicks record and jerks off, fondling his balls and massaging his taint for more stimulation. He thinks of Stiles’ noises, imagines the way he smells, and he comes hard. He spurts come over the desk and it slides over his hand as he continues to stroke to prolong the orgasm. 

“I’ll make it up to you. I always do.” He says before sending the video, opening his drawer for the wet wipes he keeps at hand. He cleans himself up and sets himself right before going back to the drafts and waits for Stiles’ response.

Stiles gets Derek’s next text on the way back to his classroom. He sees the still that signifies the beginning of the video, and he already knows what he’s going to find inside. But if he watches it now, he’ll be fucked. With a smirk on his face, he slides his phone back into his pocket and begins to count the minutes until the end of the school day. 

Finally, Trevor runs out of the classroom--he’s always the last one--and Stiles shuts the door behind them. He’s been keyed up all afternoon, and all he can think about is getting to Hale Nation and seeing Derek. 

In the parking lot, away from the prying eyes of children and his colleagues, Stiles finally,  _ finally _ takes a look at the video Derek sent him. He’s hard in an instant, and he has to restrain himself from flooring it. 

*

As the day continues, Derek finalizes the floor plan and makes the changes he wants to send over to the architect. He's happy they just need one last round of edits before the project is underway.  It took three years to get here, late night studying for the certifications he needed and small business classes to get his gym started. 

Derek heads to the daycare, it is one of the largest areas in the complex because Derek’s main goal was to create a place where he could have his children with him when Stiles was working. Their mating has never been conventional with Stiles being one of the few omegas to want a career, and Derek has never been the type of Alpha to cower omegas. 

When he walks into the daycare area, he spots his eldest doing yoga with Teddy and Evie. Conor looks up first, smiling at his dad before he runs to greet Derek. 

“Dad! I got an A- on my social studies test,” he beams at Derek. He's tall for his age, almost reaching Derek’s chest, and as Derek hugs him back, Derek is struck by how much his baby boy has grown. He remembers the day they brought Conor home, how small and vulnerable he was. Maybe Stiles won't need to convince him much for another baby…

“That's great, Con! So proud of you. Bet mom will be proud of you, too.”

Conor positively glows before he runs back to finish the yoga class. Derek waves at Teddy who smiles from his downward dog position. He makes his rounds to check on the rest of his kids and finds the twins and Natalia taking naps in the nursery. Satisfied that his children are well taken care of, Derek makes his way back to his office to finish up on the day’s ledger and wait for Stiles to get to the gym. 

*

Pulling into the parking lot of Hale Nation, Stiles kills the engine. He forgets to take his seatbelt off in his haste and chokes himself as he tries to get out of the car.

“Dammit,” he mutters, and reaches open to press the release button.

A moment later, he's up out of the car and striding towards the building. Thomas, the front desk receptionist, greets him with a cheery, “Good afternoon, Mr. Stilinski!”

“Good morning, Thomas,” Stiles says like he hasn't told him a hundred times to use his nickname. “Is Derek in his office?”

“Yes, Sir.” 

Stiles passes the room where Evie is doing yoga with the boys. He jogs to get past because he doesn’t want them to see him and interrupt their session. Even though he’s only 7, yoga has done wonders for helping Teddy get some of his extra energy out. Not for the first time, Stiles thanks his lucky stars that Teddy isn’t a werewolf. With his temperament, Stiles isn’t sure he could handle him like that. 

Coming to a stop in front of Derek’s office, Stiles raps on the door lightly. Pitching his voice high enough to disguise it, he says softly, “Mr. Hale?” 

The soft knock on the door startles Derek out of his work haze. The voice he does not recognize but he calls out for the person to come in. He hears the knob turn and as the door slowly opens, the smell of Stiles -aroused and wet- makes his eyes bleed red and the pleased wolfy rumble is loud in the otherwise quiet room. 

“Well, hello, Mr. Hale,” Stiles drawls in a low, breathy voice. He shuts the door and leans back against it. One hand slips behind him to depress the lock in the handle. 

“Stiles. . .” Other words fail Derek as he takes Stiles in. The gleam in Stiles’ eyes makes Derek’s sweats tighter and the smell of arousal is thick in the air. They've never had sex at the gym, too busy balancing their jobs and their children, but Derek would be lying if he said he didn't prepare for this. He made the room soundproof for a reason. 

He clears his throat before he demands, “Come here.”

Gliding forward like he's walking on water, Stiles stops in front of Derek's desk. He plants his hands atop the shiny mahogany. They picked this desk out together at the furniture store. Something big and imposing that Stiles never admitted he wanted to be fucked across. 

Leaning towards Derek, Stiles arched his back. He knew what kind of picture he was presenting, and the room was thick with the smell of their arousal.

“Yes, Alpha?”

Stiles slacks stretch over his ass and the sinuous line of his body draped over the desk makes Derek think of bending Stiles over the desk and taking him apart right there. Derek wants to rip Stiles’ clothes -with his claws- and stuff him full of Derek’s cock. 

Derek restrains himself and pushes away from the desk, pushing his hips forward in his seat to blatantly show off the tent his cock is making. He looks at Stiles under his lashes and raises an expectant eyebrow at him, a challenge and a promise in his eyes. 

“Sorry.” Stiles runs his tongue over his bottom lip. “I didn't hear you.” Knowing what a picture he's painting, he smirks. 

  
  


Derek stands up wordlessly, up for whatever challenge Stiles has conjured. He lifts his tank top slowly, revealing his abs, his chest and then the shirt is off. He plays with the waistband of his sweats, and drops them quickly all while maintaining eye contact with Stiles. He lays his hand on his lower abs, playing with the head of his cock as he smirks at Stiles and waits expectantly. 

Stiles quirks an eyebrow. “Oh, really?” He stands up straight and crosses his arms over his chest. “Two can play that game.”

He's out of his clothes in a minute, letting them pool at his feet. Nude, he climbs back onto the desk and sits back on his heels. He braces back on one hand and takes his cock in the other. “Tell me what you want,” he tries again. “Alpha.”

The growl of pleasure Derek emits is wild, instinct taking over. “Spread your legs,” he commands and his voice is not his own, it's more wolf than man. He continues to loosely jerk at his own dick as he waits for Stiles to comply. 

“Yes, Alpha.” Obedient as ever, Stiles parts his knees as wide as he can. The desk is big enough to allow him to move without toppling over. He looks out from under his eyelashes. “How’s that?”

If his eyes had turned back to human, they would flash crimson as it is they haven't changed back. He leans over Stiles, nuzzling and scenting his neck as he opens his desk drawer to retrieve a vial of lube. Derek licks and nips at Stiles collarbone as he drizzles lube over Stiles cock. 

“Jerk yourself off,” Derek growls, spreading the lube over Stiles balls to his taint. He pushes three fingers inside Stiles, it's a tight fit but Derek has no mind for finesse. He pumps his fingers in and out, angling his fingers to peg Stiles’ prostate. 

Stiles cries out as Derek’s fingers enter him. He's sure there must be a puddle of slick beneath him by now. He grabs his dick with both hands. He tossed his head back and gives himself up to the pleasure. “God, Derek, you've gotta get inside me or I'm gonna blow.”

Derek slips his fingers free, grabs Stiles’ thighs to wrap around Derek’s waist and slams home. Derek cries out, surrounded by Stiles’ slick heat. “ _ Fuck, _ ” he pants against Stiles’ cheek. Derek fucks Stiles’ hard, listening to Stiles grunt and moan.

Stiles erupts over his hand almost as soon as Derek gets inside him. He can feel his hole clenching tightly around Derek’s cock. They certainly have no time to knot, so it's just as well. “God--Der--” Stiles bites down on Derek’s collarbone to smother his cry.

Derek pounds into Stiles a handful more times before he comes hard, burying his face in Stiles neck to muffle his roar of pleasure. “I wish I could plug your ass and leave you full of my come as we drive home,” he murmurs  against Stiles. 

He places kisses along Stiles’ shoulder before he slowly slips out. He pushes Stiles legs higher to look at Stiles better. His hole is wet and gaping, slick with come leaking onto the desk. “I wish I could eat you out before I plugged you,” he says sorrowfully. They have to get dressed soon to get the kids before someone comes to find them. 

Derek leans forward one last time and whispers, “I love you,” before he looks for their clothes to get dressed. “That was fun,” he says mischievously. 

“Ugh.” Stiles starfishes boneless lay across the desk. He can feel the slick and cum oozing out of him, and he doesn't want to get up. This is why they don't often have sex in public. “That was fucking awesome. Wanted to do that all damn day.” He lifts his head to look at Derek for a moment. “You can't just send me pictures of your dick, you know. Makes me leak.”

“Oh no?” He asks innocently. “So I should keep them to myself, hm.” 

“You keep it up and I'll be wearing maternity pads to work.” Stiles groans as he lifts himself into a sitting position. The movement dislodged another glob of wet mess, and Stiles frowns. “Do you have any wet wipes, or something?”

“Left hand drawer, babe.”

Hopping down from the desk, Stiles opens the drawer and finds a pack. “Such a Boy Scout.” He snags one and does his best to clean up his ass while ignoring the twinge his heart gives at the scent of them.

“With the daycare, we carry stock,” he chuckles. 

“Yeah I've got some at work, too.” Stiles wipes himself out the best he can and drops the soiled cloth into the trash. Still naked, he rubs himself up against Derek and bites down on his earlobe. “What's for dinner?”

Derek hums in pleasure and pulls Stiles closer. “We should order a pizza and have a movie night with the kids. What do you think?” He asks, nosing at Stiles’ cheek. 

“Only,” Stiles drawls, “if we can have a blanket fort.”

“The kids will be excited for one.” They make blanket forts family nights often and had gotten extra linen and pillows for such occasions. “Pillow fort pizza movie night?” 

Stiles smacks a kiss on Derek’s lips. “And I'm vetoing ‘Up’ before anyone suggests it because that fucking movie makes me cry every time.”

“It makes the twins cry, too. We should  _ accidentally--” _

“Burn it?”

“I was going to say scratch it beyond repair but that works.” Derek makes sure his clothes are on right before he steps away from Stiles. “How do I look?”

“Gorgeous as always. How about me?” Grinning, Stiles spins in a circle.

“You look well fucked and ready for more,” Derek leers. “I wish I could take my time with you. Come here,” he commands gently. 

Stiles obediently shuffles into the circle of Derek’s arms and perches his chin on his mate’s shoulder. 

Derek caresses down Stiles’ back, circling his arms tightly around Stiles waist and lifting him up. Derek kisses his mate chastely, “do you know how much I love you?”

A smile tugs at the corner of Stiles’s mouth. “I do.”

*

As soon as they get home, the kids begin to get ready for movie night in the fort. Derek moves the furniture to make room for the pillows and blanket. He strings along fairy lights to keep the room dim enough to allow the kids to sleep if they get too tired. Fort nights are like pack nights, as a parent Derek always wakes up with someone’s limb on his face. He loves every minute of it.

While Stiles is taking a shower, Derek calls for pizza and adds warm brownies to give the kids dessert. Conor and Teddy come down the stairs with the twins hand in hand. Conor helps his siblings settle into the fort and lets Remy pick the movie they will watch. Derek watches his children, they’re great kids and he feels a pang of longing. He brings out the twins’ sippie cups as he ruffles Conor’s hair as a thank you for helping settle everyone in. He sits in his spot, Remy at his side as they wait for Stiles and Nat to come down.

Stiles finishes helping Nat into her pjs and hand-in-hand they tackle the stairs. They’re walking into the living room when the doorbell rings. Must be the pizza. 

“Head into the living room with your dad. I’ll be there in a minute.” A smile on his face, Stiles watches his daughter scamper off and snags the cash off the stand in the entryway. He opens the door, but frowns when he realizes the man standing in front of him isn’t holding a pizza. “Can I help you?” 

“I’m looking for Derek,” the tall, handsome man says with a charming smile. “Derek Hale?”

“Um.” Stiles glances back into the house, an uncomfortable feeling settling into his stomach. “Derek?” he calls. “There’s someone at the door for you.” 

Derek moves to stand, smelling a familiar scent but not quite able to remember where it’s from. Before he can make it to the foyer, he gets tackled by a tall, slim body and then there are lips on him. Derek can feel his eyes widen, searching for Stiles as the omega in Derek’s arms wraps his arms around Derek.

“Lex?” Derek asks in confusion. Derek can see Stiles standing at the opening of their living room, his eyes seething and his posture stiff. Derek unsuccessfully attempts to extracts himself from Alexander and walk to Stiles, trying to reassure his mate that there isn’t anything going on. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m going into heat,” Alexander says flippantly like they do this all the time. “And I figured you’d like to see me.” He releases Derek and looks around the house. His eyes rake over Stiles like he’s appraising the furniture. “And you have a housekeeper. How  _ charming _ .” The smile he gives Derek is shark-like. 

Stiles curls his hands into fists. Had he been bitten, he would have wolfed out already. Through clenched teeth he says, “I’m not the fucking housekeeper. This is  _ my _ house.” Eyes murderous, he looks at Derek as if to say,  _ Get this thing out of my house before I kill it. _

It takes effort to loosen Alexander’s arms away from Derek and he steps back. “Alexander, this is Stiles, we’re mated.” 

Alexander’s laugh was high and false. He slapped lightly at Derek’s chest. “Derek Hale mated? Nice one. No, really, who is he?” 

Stiles makes as if to launch himself at Alexander, and it’s only Derek’s arm wrapping around his waist like a steel rod that stops him. 

Stiles is stiff with rage in his arms and Derek does not blame him. Alexander is a blast from Derek’s past that Derek never expected to see ever again. Derek can feel the eyes of their children on them, quietly watching the adult scene. Derek leans into Stiles, “tell the kids to go upstairs and I’ll explain. I promise.” He leaves a small kiss on Stiles’ nape.

“Fuck you,” Stiles growls, jerking out of Derek’s hold. “Kids, get upstairs,” he snaps. 

Eyes wide, Conor takes the little ones by the hand and leads them to the stairs. Teddy lingers like he wants to say something, but Conor says his name and he turns to follow the others. 

“You have like 30 seconds, Derek,” Stiles grinds out through his barely-controlled temper, “to explain what the fuck is going on here before I pack my shit and take my kids out of here.” 

“Kids?  _ You really are mated _ ,” Alexander whispers softly, surprised.

Derek tries to hold Stiles’ hand, but he keeps pushing Derek away, glaring daggers. “Alexander and I knew each other when I was living in New York. I haven’t seen or heard from him since I came back to Beacon Hills to look for Laura. Before I met you,” Derek explains.

Breathing heavily, Stiles crosses his arms over his chest. He’s not sure what to believe. “That doesn’t explain what he’s doing in my foyer.” 

“Uh, my heat? Pretty sure I already said that.” 

Stiles turns his attention back to the interloper. “I didn’t ask  _ you _ .” He counts silently to ten and blows his breath out. “Fuck this. I’m calling my dad.” 

Derek steps in front of Stiles, trying to stop him from leaving and explain that he’s just as surprised as Stiles is. “Stiles, babe, I  _ don’t know why he’s here _ .”

“Don’t call me babe.” 

“Stiles, I swear to you on the life of my family, I do.not.know. why Alexander is here,” he turns to Lex, his eyes bleed red as his instincts to protect his mate and family flare. “ _ Why are you here?”  _

“Der-bear, I thought you’d be happy to see me. It’s been soooo long. We always had fun during my heat,” he purrs trying to appeal to the Alpha.

Silently shaking with rage, Stiles takes two steps backwards and reaches for the old faithful baseball bat he keeps next to the front door for the nights when Derek isn’t home. 

Derek catches Stiles before he’s able to swing and holds him in a hard grip. “ _ Listen _ to me. Please,” Derek begs. “Alexander, I’m  **_mated_ ** and we haven’t spoken in over ten years. How the  _ fuck _ did you find me?

For the first time since Alexander walked into their living room, he looks confused and slightly disappointed. “I. . .” Lex clears his throat before he can continue, finally getting a sense of the situation, “I looked you up and found your gym. When you left without a word. . . I missed you and I figured with my heat coming on, I’d come find you and well, you know. . . it could be like old times,” he glances at Stiles before making eye contact with Derek. 

“Old times.” Stiles’s laugh is maniacal. He can’t move his arms, but he twists the bat in his hands so that he’s holding it upright. “No, you know what? Derek, lemme go.” He drops the bat to the side as a sign of good faith. 

Derek loosens his hold on Stiles, pulling him close for a reassuring hug but Stiles steps away from him immediately. Derek feels the loss deeply. 

Stiles shoves his pajama bottoms to his ankles and pulls up the leg of his boxers. It’s precariously close to his balls, but he doesn’t give a fuck right now. Derek put it there for a reason. “See that?” He frames the teeth marks with his hands. “That’s my mating bite.  _ Derek’s _ mating bite. Those are  _ our _ children upstairs. And you come into  _ my house _ . . . ” His chest heaves with exertion, and he has to take a deep breath to keep himself from crying in frustration. “I’m going upstairs to make sure my children are okay. When I come back, he’s gone.” Stiles is staring at Alexander, but his words are directed at Derek. 

“Stiles, wait. I’ll go up with you,” he walks up to Stiles, hand reaching to cup Stiles’ cheek. Stiles’ stance is not friendly but Derek continues, he won’t lose the love of his life for an omega he used to fuck before he ever met Stiles. “We’ll go tuck them all in . . . and then we’ll talk,” he leaves a kiss on Stiles’ lips. “I love you,” he tries before stepping back.

“Lex, go wait in the kitchen. I’m going to take care of my family before I deal with you,” he growls out angrily.

“ _ No _ ,” Stiles says. “I want him  _ out.”  _

“Ba-  _ Stiles _ ,” Derek corrects himself, “he was there for me after the fire. When Laura and I were looking for a place to stay, he helped us when we needed it. And when Laura disappeared . . . he helped me track her down. He was a friend and whatever happened, happened  _ before I met you _ . Before I loved you. He means nothing but a friendship.  _ Nothing else is going to happen _ . Trust me.”

Stiles glances from Derek to Alexander. He feels like he's stuck in some alternate reality. He has no reason to distrust Derek, but who gave this guy  _ the right _ . . . 

“Then what do you propose we do with him?”

“Uh, guys, I'm right here,” Alexander said, but Stiles shot him a glare that shut him right the fuck up. 

“I don't know. We’ll put the kids to bed and then we can ask him why he looked for me after  _ ten years.” _

“Fuck that. I’m not leaving this stranger in my living room. He’s  _ yours _ . What are we doing with him?” 

Derek’s temper flares, “he's  _ not  _ mine!” He breathes hard, not wanting to lash out at Stiles and making the situation worse. “Do you want me to stay with him while the kids-”

“Fine.” Stiles crosses to the front door and pulls it open. “Get out.” He’s looking at Alexander so there’s no mistaking what he means. 

“I have nowhere to go!” Alexander shrieks. “Der, come on. Don't kick me out . . .” Alexander’s pleads, tears falling down his cheeks. 

“Lex,” Derek starts, “you've come to my home. Have upset not only my omega but my mate and the mother of my children.”

“Damn right,” Stiles mutters. 

Derek glances at Stiles, a small smile for his mate. “You were there for me and,” Derek takes a deep breath before he can continue. Even after all the years that have passed, he can still feel the loss intensely. “You were there for me and Laura. And because of that friendship, you're going to stay in  _ our _ kitchen until my mate and I put our kids to bed. But know that if after we talk and Stiles asks you to go, you're gone.”

He looks at Stiles, hoping that the next part of what he wants to say will not infuriate his mate further. “You were good to me and I cared for you. But I  _ love _ Stiles. Please don't make me choose here because it won't be the way you want.”

Sullen, Stiles shuts the door. He looks from Alexander to Derek and back to Alexander. “If you do anything--”

Alexander holds his hands up in supplication. “Derek can hear me, right?” 

This, at least, mollifies Stiles somewhat. “Kitchen’s in there,” he says, pointing. 

Alexandra glances at each of them one last time before shuffling into the kitchen. 

“Tonight, in bed,” Stiles says through clenched teeth, “we are going to have a  _ long _ fucking talk.” Without waiting to see if his mate is following, he heads for the stairs.

Derek stops Stiles before he goes into Conor’s bedroom. He grabs his arm and pulls Stiles towards him. “I promise you I didn't know he was coming. I haven't maintained contact with the pack in New York after coming to Beacon Hills.” Derek tries to will Stiles to believe him, to appease the rage settling in. 

Stiles takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He cups Derek’s face in his hands and stares into his (bluegreygreen) eyes. “I know. I know you didn’t, but it just makes my skin crawl to think that he’s down there and he ruined movie night and if I don’t stay angry I’m going to cry.” He picks a quick kiss on Derek’s lips and pulls away. “I love you,” he says like Derek has just disagreed with him.  

Derek feels slightly reassured that Stiles won’t leave but he hates that Stiles is so upset. He walks into Conor’s room, his son is on the bed with his head on his knees and his eyes red-rimmed. “Come here, baby,” Derek says gently as he sits on the bed. Conor launches himself into Derek’s arms, if Derek weren’t a werewolf, Conor’s strength and speed would have knocked him down. As it is, their combined strength makes them embrace harder and Conor breaks down into his chest. The curse of being a werewolf is that you hear  _ everything _ . 

“Are you and mommy going to break up?” the quiet sob fills the room. Conor has reverted back to  _ mommy _ it makes Derek understand how upset Conor is.

“No, baby,” he reassures. “Your mom and I are forever, okay?” Derek holds Conor and rocks him to sleep like when he was a baby.

*

While Derek is dealing with Conor, Stiles goes into Teddy’s room. His second-eldest is on the floor surrounded by Tonka trucks. 

“Teddy,” Stiles says, feeling all of the anger drain out of him. In its place is fond affection for his little boy and all his energy. 

“Play with me, Mama!” he announces happily. 

“No,” Stiles says gently, bending down to pick him up. “It’s bedtime, baby.” 

“No movie?” 

Stiles’s heart breaks. “No movie. Tomorrow, we’ll watch a movie. Daddy has a--visitor.” 

“Where is Daddy?” 

“He’s tucking Conor in. He’ll be in to see you in just a minute. What story do you want to hear tonight?” Stiles holds out three books, and Teddy points to  _ One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish _ with glee. “That’s my favorite, too.” 

Before Stiles can even get halfway through the book, Teddy’s eyes close and he falls asleep. Stiles tucks the blankets around his shoulders and kisses his forehead. His heart clenches at how big his boys are getting. He wants them to just stop growing, no matter how feeble a desire. 

Since Derek had not yet come out of Conor’s room, Stiles checks on Natalia and the twins. They are all snuggled in their beds fast asleep. How Stiles’s heart aches to think that his eldest had been tasked with caring for his youngest. He never wanted that for Conor. He wants his little boy to remain a child for as long as possible. 

Like he did with Teddy, Stiles tucks the blankets around each of his children and kisses them. Silently, he vows not to put Conor through this again, no matter what it takes. 

Stiles walks into Conor’s room to find Derek sitting up in Conor’s bed with their son sleeping in his dad’s lap. Derek looks heartbroken, and Stiles’s stomach drops. 

He licks his lips slowly. “Are you guys okay?” 

Derek shakes his bed, a tear falling down his cheek as he holds his boy. Conor is dead to the world, having exhausted himself into a deep sleep but Derek is long to let him go. 

“He cried himself to sleep. He,” Derek clears his throat, “he cried himself to sleep because he didn’t believe we were going to be okay.”

Guilt floods Stiles’s body. The tears begin to fall even before he gets to the bed. He wraps himself around Conor and Derek. “No, no,” he shakes his head as the tears soak his shirt. “God, no, nothing will ever break this family apart.” Sniffling, he presses a kiss to Derek’s temple. He can’t handle the thought that Conor heard them--that he thought . . . “I’m so fucking sorry,” Stiles whispers. 

“Hey,” he whispers into Stiles’ hair. “Not your fault. It comes with being a werewolf . . . and the unexpected. I’m sorry I brought this on.”

“No,” Stiles says, keeping his voice low. “I’m sorry I overreacted.” 

Between them, Conor whimpers and shifts in his sleep, but he doesn’t wake. 

“I don’t want to leave him,” Derek says quietly and looks down at Conor in his arms. “I know we have to deal with Lex but our baby needs us.”

Stiles was torn, but an idea came to him. “Let’s put him to sleep in our bed. That means no--” he pauses, glancing down at Conor’s sleeping face--“adult times tonight, but I don’t think we were going to do that, anyway.” 

“You said you wanted to talk. I don’t want to have that conversation with the kids present,” He shifts Conor who nuzzles into Derek’s chest and lays him on the bed. Conor’s eyes blink open and he looks around the room, eyes honing in on Stiles. 

“Mommy?” he whispers to Stiles. 

“I’m right here, baby,” Stiles says, pushing the dark hair off his forehead. 

Conor’s tears fall silently, “Mommy, are you still mad?”

“No,” Stiles shakes his head as his own eyes fill with tears. “I’m not mad.”    
  
“Okay, mommy,” Conor murmurs before he falls asleep again. His hand is holding Derek and Stiles. 

*

After they carefully extricate themselves from Conor and shut the door to his room, Stiles follows Derek back down the stairs. He doesn’t want to deal with Alexander. He’d had such a good day full of family and Derek and now their night is ruined. He just wants to curl up in bed around his Alpha and put this ridiculous day behind him. 

They find Alexander eating the pizza they'd ordered with a glass of juice, he has his headphones in his ears and does not hear Derek and Stiles approach. Derek taps Lex on his shoulder and the omega startles, almost knocking over the juice if it weren’t for Derek’s werewolf sense.

“Lex, it’s been ten years. What’s going on?” Derek asks, wanting to get this over with. He’d planned a night with his family and now he has to deal with a blast from his past. 

Alexander sighs and his shoulders visibly slump. He looks so young, as young as the day Derek met him. “Would you believe me if I said I missed you?” Lex tries to act coy but one look at Stiles has him straightening up. “Sorry,” he apologizes sincerely. 

  
“So . . . the pack alpha, aka my dad, wants me to settle down with an alpha from another pack to create an alliance,” Lex begins, “but I don’t want to.” 

“Then why are you here?” Stiles feels like he's asked this question 100 times tonight.

“I don't know.” Alexander shrugs again. “It was either this or my dad was going to force me to mate with someone from another pack. A wolf. So I sort of told him I had someone already.” 

Laughter bubbles unbidden from his throat. It's so ridiculous, so something  _ he _ would do that he can't stop himself from laughing. “And what is your dad going to say when you tell him Derek is already mated?”

Alexander shuffles his feet. “Obviously, I didn't think that far.”

“Lex. . .” Derek trails off, at a loss for what to say. 

“I  _ really _ am going into heat soon. And my dad always liked you so I thought . . . you know, that we could form that alliance he's always wanted with the Hales.”

“Have you ever thought about talking?” 

“My dad never--”

“Allison’s dad is an Alpha. And he’s pack.” Stiles shoots Derek a questioning look. 

“Wait, wait,” Alexander cuts them off, “ I don’t want to mate some stranger! If I did, I would have accepted the alpha my dad set me up with. Listen--”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to  _ mate _ him. You’ve spent how many heats with  _ my  _ mate? This is just about keeping you out of my house during your heat.” 

“Um. . .are you really asking me to give you a number or was that, like, rhetorical?” Lex asks in confusion

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” 

“Chris,” Stiles says again and looks at Derek. “Chris would do it, don’t you think?” 

Derek hesitates, feeling protective of Alexander but also not wanting to rile Stiles up. “Chris is a hunter,” he starts, “we should--”

“A hunter?” Lex shrieks, tears filling his eyes, “why do you want me dead?” Lex looks at Stiles as if the other omega betrayed him.

“Oh, shut up.” Stiles waves a dismissive hand. “He’s pack, too. There’s your alliance.” 

“Derek, you have a hunter in your pack? What  _ happened _ to you?” he looks at Derek askance. “Der,” he approaches Derek swiftly, “they  _ murdered _ your family,” he shout-whispers. 

“It wasn't Chris. He's helped a lot since I've been back,” Derek explains. 

“Listen, I came here because Derek was always good to me and I thought we could pick up where we left off and then  _ maybe _ talk about possibly mating. It was an impulse,” Lex shrugs like it happens all the time. “Is this, like, a single mating or are you open for . . .” he wiggles his eyebrows for emphasis.

“Do you . . . want me to go get my bat?” Stiles asks like they’re making a decision about where to eat for dinner. 

“We don’t share,” Derek clarifies, trying to diffuse the residual tension.

“What is it you  _ want _ ?” Stiles asks. “I’m tired and I’m irritated and--no. You know what? Fuck this.” He waves a hand vaguely at Derek. “I’m gonna go upstairs, take a shower, and get in bed. This is your mess. You clean it up.” He presses a kiss to the corner of Derek’s mouth. “I love you.” 

“Love you,” Derek responds back, watching Stiles make his way to the stairs. He breathes a sigh of relief, feeling less tense now that Stiles is gone. 

“Lex, I can’t spend your heat with you. I won’t do that to Stiles, to my family.” Derek’s going to be honest and clear, so Lex can understand what it is he disrupted tonight. 

Alexander sighs quietly, tears welling in his eyes as he gives Derek a watery smile. “It was a long shot,” he sniffs. “I just don’t want to mate some random alpha. What if he’s an asshole?”

Derek walks over to the omega and wraps an arm around him as a sign of support. Lex leans his head on Derek’s shoulder, “I’m really sorry I got your omega so angry.”

“You should apologize to him but thank you. Call your dad, and I’ll call him in the morning. It  _ is _ late and it’s been a long night. You can stay here for a couple of days until we figure out what you’re going to do. I can smell your heat coming on, maybe a week away,” he murmurs quietly, feeling awkward that his sense can pick it up when it’s not Stiles. 

“You can’t travel until after,” he sighs deeply, knowing that what he’s going to say next will probably cause more tension between he and Stiles, “you can stay with us until a couple of days before your heat. We can talk to Chris, he’s a good guy,” he smirks, “for a hunter. And if you guys hit it off maybe he can see you through your heat or we can look for a heat clinic.”

“Thank you, Derbear,” Lex reverts back to the nickname he adopted so long ago. 

“Come on, I’ll show you to the guest room.” Derek walks them to the furthest room in the house, away from the master suite and the kids’ rooms in the hope that it will help Stiles feel less threatened. 

*

Stiles showers slowly and dresses in one of Derek’s shirts and a soft pair of yoga pants. He crawls in bed and snuggles up to Derek’s pillow. He won’t be able to fall asleep until his Alpha is with him, so he grabs his book from the nightstand and opens to the marked page. 

Derek walks into their bedroom and finds Stiles reading quietly on their bed, blankets wrapped around his waist. He looks up as Derek walks to their bed and sits on his side taking Stiles’ hand to kiss his knuckles. 

“Thank you for trusting me,” his voice is loud in the silence of their room. 

“Is he gone?” 

Derek curses quietly before he turns to Stiles, keeps Stiles hand close to his chest. “He’s in the guest room at the other side of the house. But,” he adds quickly before Stiles can say a word, “that’s until we can talk to his dad and to Chris. He can’t travel before his heat. He’s too close, Stiles.”

Stiles knows that. He’s not stupid--he’s an omega himself. He fiddles with the fabric of Derek’s shirt for a while before answering. “Why are you such a good fucking person?” he asks, though he’s smiling. 

“You made me better,” Derek smiles back.

Twisting his hand tighter in Derek’s shirt, Stiles pulls him closer. “Kiss me,” he whispers. 

Derek leans towards Stiles, kisses him softly. He takes his time, kissing every inch of Stiles’ lips before he coaxes them open, pushing his tongue deep to taste everything Stiles is giving him. The kiss is about comfort and reassurance, full of love and promise. When Stiles’ tongue take part, Derek sucks it deep into his mouth. They kiss for a long time before Derek pulls away, leaving one last chaste kiss on Stiles’ mouth.

“Come on,” Stiles says, pulling Derek down with him. He grabs Derek’s pillow and shoves it behind himself. “Here. I stole that. Not nearly as good as the real thing.” 

Derek laughs as he reaches to shut off the lights and gets comfortable. “Come here,” Derek pulls Stiles to him and leaves a kiss in his hair. “Sleep time.”

Stiles winds his fingers through Derek’s and tucks their joined hands under his chin. “I love you.” 

“Love you more,” Derek mutters, already dozing.

A smile on his face, Stiles falls into a deep sleep. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles goes to lunch with Isaac, then he comes home to talk to Derek and Alexander. Things do not go well at the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The response to the first two chapters was lovely. :) You guys are the absolute best. I don't think Arver and I would still be chugging without you all. 
> 
> And Arver, you are my moon and stars, just so you know. <3

Needing to find a way out of the house for an hour, Stiles gets Isaac to meet him for coffee. They haven't had time to hang out in a while, especially between the demands of family and work.

“How are you?” Stiles asks, giving his friend a hug. “You look good.” Pregnancy is a good look for Isaac, especially this time around. His cheeks have a healthy glow, and Stiles has never seen him happier than he is with Scott and Allison. He tries to ignore the clench in his own chest at how good it feels to be pregnant--the fun bits of it, anyway.

Isaac smiles shyly, still not used to being complimented. “Thank you. I feel good. This pregnancy is so much easier than Addie’s.” He doesn’t think about his time with Peter often and he’s glad that he doesn’t have to deal with the crazy alpha ever again. 

“You look stressed,” Isaac comments, having been worried about Stiles since the phone call that woke him up in the morning. They sit at the small diner and are interrupted by the waitress who takes their order. Isaac sneaks in some fried chicken since Scott is so anal about Isaac’s nutrition. “I’m so glad you convinced Scott to not come so I can have some  _ real _ food for a change.”

Stiles grins. “Trust me, I know what it's like. The good news is that I've got Derek pretty well trained by now. He doesn't come between me and curly fries.” He takes a long sip of his Coke. and sits back. “His . . . friend is in town.”

“He has friends?” it comes out before Isaac could take it back. “I mean, you know. . .” he trails off.

Stiles can't help the laugh that bubbles out of his throat. “I know, right? Well, it's this omega he apparently used to . . .  _ know _ back in New York.” 

By the tone of Stiles’ voice, this omega was  _ more _ than a friend. “Friend like . . . Boyd and Erica were  _ friends _ in high school or like you and Scott?”

“More like the friends that Derek and I were like when we went to that concert? Remember?”

“Oh.  _ oh _ ,” Isaac’s eyes widen. “I didn’t think Derek knew many people let alone other omegas outside of this pack. Has Derek been keeping in touch with him? Her?” Isaac asks with disapproval in his tone.

“ _ Him _ , and no, he said he hadn't.”

“But you don’t believe him?” 

Stiles stabs at the ice in his glass with his straw. “It's not that I don't believe him. It's just that it’s way too convenient for this guy to show up  _ days _ before his heat, you know?”

“ **_What?!_ ** ” Isaac shouts. “What is he doing here? Is he still with Derek? How  _ did  _ he find Derek? Oh. My. God,” Isaac feels out of breath, surprise and a bit of anger rising within him. He didn’t think Derek would be the type of alpha to take on another omega, not like his uncle who fucked anything that lifted tail. 

“All good questions, my friend. Well, what happened was we came home with the kids--we were getting ready to make a blanket fort in the living room, you know?”

“Let me guess, you didn’t have blanket fort night, did you?” Isaac says crossly. He knows how important it is for the kids when they have bonding night with their siblings and their parents and he feels genuine anger against this faceless omega. 

“No, we didn't. Just as we’re coming down the stairs, someone knocks on the door. I thought it was the pizza, so I answered it. It's some guy asking for Derek. So Derek comes in and this guy just jumps him like  _ that _ makes any sense and starts making out with him!”

“Derek  _ kissed him?! _ ” Isaac’s voice is raised a couple of octaves he’s so scandalized. “Has he been  _ cheating _ ? I’ll kill him. No!  _ Scott _ will kill him and make him swallow his knot. Oh, Stiles,” he says pityingly. 

“Well, no. Derek didn't kiss  _ him _ . He kissed Derek.”

“Oh,” Isaac answers mullified. “Are you okay, though? That must have been hard. Tell me what happened, I promise not to interrupt again.”

“Well, I told Conor to take his brothers and sisters upstairs because they sure as hell didn't need to see that. But Isaac, I was so fucking mad I was shaking. I was about to take the kids and go to my dad’s.”

Isaac listens intently, patting Stiles’ hand in a show of comfort and solidarity. He imagines someone other than Allison kissing Scott or vice versa, and it makes him internally scream with rage. 

Stiles takes a sip of Coke and continues. “So this omega is practically begging Derek to fuck him on the kitchen floor. Finally, I showed him my mating bite because he just couldn't seem to understand otherwise. That sort of got the message through. So I finally decided to go put the kids to bed and let Derek deal with his own mess.”

“Wow, Stiles I can't believe you didn't scratch his eyes out!” Isaac sips at his lemon water. Before he can say anything else, their food arrives and Isaac’s mouth waters as the smell of fried chicken hits the air. He swears right now this is probably better than sex with Scott and Allison. Once their plates are set, the waitress leaves them to resume their conversation. 

“I hope Derek kicked that slut out. Did you kick Derek to the couch?” Isaac almost smiles, he knows how much of a hothead Stiles can be and in the past it always irked Isaac. But in this situation, he hopes Stiles gave Derek hell. 

“No,” Stiles sighs. “Derek decided to let him stay until his heat. Then he’s going to a heat clinic in Mystic Falls.” 

“He's  _ staying in your house _ ?! Stiles . . .” He doesn't know what to say. Alphas can mate with more than one omega, most do but he never thought Stiles would ever allow that. He never thought Derek would want that. It makes Isaac feel rejected. 

“So. . . Derek’s going to see him through the heat?”

“ _ WHAT _ ? Nononono, oh hell no!  _ Hell _ no.” 

“He's in your house and kissed your alpha!”

“No, Isaac, he’s just  _ staying _ there for a couple of days. In the guest room. He’ll be gone once his heat is over. Back to New York.” 

“You think Derek and this omega would . . .” Isaac bumps his hands together as if he's clapping. He can't find it in himself to say they'd have sex. Not when he's looked up to Derek and Stiles’ mating. 

Stiles lifts an eyebrow. “Not unless he wants to find another mate. Alexander is leaving after his heat or I will pack my shit and my kids and move in with my dad.”  

“Wow, dude. What does Derek say about this?”

“He swears there’s nothing going on and I believe him.” Stiles took a big bite of his burger and moved it to the side of his mouth so he could still talk. “You know him as well as I do. We’ve been together almost ten years. He’s not going to leave me and the kids to go chase tail. If he was going to do that, he probably would have done it before Teddy was born.”  

Isaac takes another bite of his chicken, savoring it before he continues the conversation. “Sorry, it's just so good,” he explains sheepishly. “So this omega is going into heat ‘soon’ and he's staying with you. He's had sex with Derek before and he's staying with you. Wow, Stiles. That's trust because I'll be honest I would not have let that omega stay. 

Stiles shrugs. “What was I supposed to do? He’s practically crying and begging and Derek looks at me like . . . ” He stares off into nothing as he thinks about the look Derek gave him. “It’s not about Alexander. I couldn’t do that to Derek. He said the guy--Alexander--was there for him and Laura after the fire.” 

“Derek loves you more than anything,” Isaac has no doubt. “I'm surprised that this Alexander is even here but to Derek, his family is so important. He knows what it's like to have nothing,” Isaac says with watery eyes. “Ugh, pregnancy hormones,” he giggles as he wipes his eyes. 

“Don’t cry,” Stiles says, tossing napkins at him. “You’ll make me cry!” 

“I can't help it,” Isaac says around a sniffle, “you and Derek are, like, the best mated couple, you know? And to know this guy just walked in and could ruin what you guys have,” he can't stop crying. “Oh dear Lord,” he grunts frustrated. He takes another napkin to wipe his tears. 

“Wait! Aren't you going into heat soon, too?”

“Creepy that you know, but yes.”

“Derek asked us to watch the twins for your heat week,” he explains, blushing. 

“Oh.” Stiles nods. “Yeah. If Alexander’s telling the truth--and I trust Derek to know that he is--he should get his at least a couple of days before I get mine.” 

“Oh,” Isaac breathes a sigh of relief. “I'm sorry I was so hard on Derek. It's just that . . .” He trails off, he's never spoken about his life with Peter to anyone but Scott and Allison. “Well, Peter took in other omegas and made me watch,” he can't meet Stiles eyes, embarrassed by the memory. 

Stiles’s eyes widen in surprise and he feels righteous anger and indignation well in his chest on Isaac’s behalf. “Isaac . . . I’m so sorry, I had no idea. You know we did everything we could.” He hesitates, unsure if he should take Isaac’s hand. 

“I know. Derek tried. He even kicked Peter’s ass when he found out why I can't,” Isaac clears his throat, the memory always as painful as the repercussions, “I can't breastfeed.” 

At that, Stiles does take Isaac’s hand across the table. “I’m sorry. Really. I didn’t invite you out just to be a Debbie downer. We are kid-free and,” he pauses to steal the pickle he know Isaac won’t eat and bites into it with a satisfying crunch, “you have got that lovely pregnancy glow going on that I have to tell you I completely envy.” 

“You miss being pregnant?” Isaac asks, surprised. 

“Yeah.” Stiles gives him an embarrassed smile. “Derek said something about having another baby, but I think he was just trying to placate me. I mean, he’s already 33. We’ve got five kids. More is just ridiculous, don’t you think?” 

Isaac nods in agreement but can smell disappointment wafting from his friend. “But you want another?”

“I don’t know.” Stiles shrugs. 

Isaac hears the blip in Stiles heart and looks at him expectantly. 

“Yes, okay! I do . . . I mean, I think I do, anyway. I just . . . I miss being pregnant, and I think that’s a really shitty reason to have another baby.” 

“There are a lot worse reasons to have a baby. But you guys should talk about it. Maybe get married first finally,” the last is said under his breath. 

“We are getting married. We just . . . haven’t set a date yet.” 

“I would get married first,” Isaac says dreamily. “Plus your proposal and the ring were just beautiful. “

“They were.” Stiles tries not to glance down at his bare hands. He hasn’t worn his ring in a while. 

Isaac looks at Stiles hand and notices he doesn't have his ring on, doesn't even have a mark on his ring finger. “You don't wear your ring?”

“I do.” Embarrassed, Stiles shoves his hands into his lap. “Just not recently.” 

“Ok-ay,” Isaac placates. “I'd never take it off.” Isaac has always dreamt of getting married. With Peter, it would never have happened and Isaac is glad for it but the dream is still there. 

“It’s just heavy and it gets in the way.” Stiles’s hands flutter nervously. “Why are you so worried about it, anyway?” 

Isaac shrugs, “because it would have been amazing to have an alpha love me enough to honor my human traditions.” Isaac doesn't look at Stiles, focusing on his empty plate instead. Isaac has always envied Stiles, he won Derek and hasn't really appreciated how good of an alpha Derek is. Isaac would know, he has the scars of what alphas can do when they think an omega is their property. He feels angry. Angry that Stiles is so flippant about Derek's love. 

“I guess we should go,” Isaac suggests. No longer wanting to continue this outing. He's tired and irritated, and he does not want to say something he won't be able to take back. 

Stiles can tell Isaac is angry. He can see it in the set of his jaw, the way his fingers tremble, and the way he won’t meet Stiles’s eyes. “Isaac. I’m sorry. It is amazing that Derek loves me that much, and I cherish him. I really do. It’s not about the ring or the wedding. It’s just that . . . this is going to sound ridiculous but: I think I just love him so much that I don’t have to  _ worry _ about things like that, you know? And I’ll admit: it’s a nice feeling.”  

“How nice,” Isaac says sarcastically. 

“Hey, whoa. You’re practically mated to my best friend. How is that any different?” 

“Because I would do anything for Scott _ and _ Allison. Even wear a ring they gave me regardless of  _ how heavy  _ it is,” the tears come unbidden and he's too emotional to stop them. “Derek gives you everything and you just,” Isaac shakes his head. “I'm going home,” he moves to stand, it's a little difficult with his pregnancy but he manages.

“Isaac,” Stiles sighs, but he can only watch as his friend waddles out the door to his car. Now more irritated than before, Stiles tosses a $20 down on the table and leaves. 

*   
  
Derek sets the last Lego on the castle he's building with the twins. Remy claps his hands excitedly while Lucy squeals and tackle-hugs Derek. “Go get the Knights so you and your brother can play.”

Derek watches the twins run to their toy box to find their matching toys. He sits up on the couch, a respectable distance away from Lex. They spoke to Lex’s father earlier and the other alpha was chagrined to find out what his son had done. He apologized to Derek and Derek was able to convince the other alpha to allow Lex to meet and get to know his fiancé before he decides he wants to get mated. 

Lex is quiet, sullen after the night and morning they've had. He watches TV silently as Derek watches his kids. “Lex?”

Alexander turns to Derek, surprised the alpha is talking to him after everything he’d done. “Yes, Der?”

“It'll be okay,” Derek wants to reassure. “Your dad said you could stay here and get to know your fiancé. We’ll talk to Stiles and figure it out.”

Alexander nods but doesn't say anything. He knows how much of a bad impression he's made on Derek's mate. Lex doubts Stiles will let him stay in the alpha’s home.”

Stiles blows through the front door. The twins are on their feet in an instant shouting, “Mommy!” 

He bends down and kisses each of them in turn before looking at his mate. “Derek, can I talk to you, please? Now? In private? Upstairs in the bedroom?” 

“Yeah,” Derek gets up to follow Stiles, dread filling him at Stiles’ tone and lack of greeting. 

Stiles shuts the bedroom door and turns to face Derek with his arms crossed over his chest. “Does it bother you that I don’t wear my ring?” 

The question is not what Derek expected. He feels his brows draw together. “What? Where is this coming from?” Derek thought Stiles would be upset that Lex was still in their house. 

“Just answer the question.” 

“It bothered me,” Derek admits with a shrug. 

  
  


Stiles makes a noise of irritation and throws his hands in the air. “Why didn’t you say something? I just had lunch with Isaac and he practically  _ berated me _ for not wearing it. Does this make me a bad mate? I’m like totally freaking out over here. Derek?” 

Derek goes to hug Stiles, “hey, calm down. It bothered me yes, but, not enough to make it an issue. Maybe you stopped liking it or maybe you didn't want to get married anymore,” Derek rattles off. “I guess I didn't want to know what the reasoning was.” 

“I just . . . forgot,” Stiles sighs, and it’s the truth. “I carry your mark with me all the time. I can’t erase it. A ring is never going to come close to that. . . . And I don’t . . . I don’t mean to demean the whole purpose of the ring or getting married or anything, I just think that we’ve both let it slide to the backburner.” 

“We have,” Derek agrees. “Life got in the way. Why is this bothering you so much?”

“Because . . . Isaac got me all worked up about it.” 

“Does it bother you that you don't care about wearing the ring?” Derek asks confused. He's not sure what's happening at the moment. 

Stiles makes a face. “I guess, kinda, yeah.” 

“So wear it. You have my mark on you, that's what's important to me. The engagement was for you, Stiles. It's all up to you,” he shrugs and steps away from Stiles to sit on the bed. 

“I know, I mean . . . Does it make you feel better if I say that I don’t feel like I  _ need _ to wear it? I know I’m yours and you’re mine and I sort of dare another Alpha to look at me.” He gives Derek a half-smile. 

“Then it's fine. Crisis averted,” Derek smiles. 

“You’re way too agreeable,” Stiles says fondly and takes Derek by the hand. “Come on, let’s go make sure your omega on the side hasn’t killed our children.” 

“ _ My omega on the side? _ ”

“It’s a joke, baby.” 

Derek slaps Stiles ass on the way to the door. “Keep that up,” he growls as he makes his way to the stairs. 

“Yes, Sir!” Stiles promises with a little salute. 

*

Downstairs, Stiles finds Alexander on the floor playing with the twins. He’s not altogether glad to see it, even though they seem to be having fun and his children are, to his eyes, unharmed. 

Stiles settles himself on the floor, and Lucy immediately crawls into his lap. “So what did you guys do all afternoon?” he asks, looking from Alexander to Derek. 

Alexander swallows hard, nervous around the other omega. He's not sure if he should answer but he wants this Stiles to let him stay so he goes for it. “We called my dad. And, um, we scheduled my heat session with the omega clinic in town.”

“Yeah? In Beacon Hills? I thought they were booked.” 

Clearing his throat Lex explains, “Well, uh, your dad called in a favor and they were able to book me in with such short notice.”

“ _ My father _ ?” Scandalized, Stiles looks at Derek. “You called my father?” 

Derek raises an eyebrow at Stiles’ tone, “it was either the clinic or here, Stiles. I had to do something.”

Stiles makes a face. “Well, I’m sure my dad was willing to help  _ your old friend _ .” 

“He was,” Derek smiles in the same sarcastic way Stiles is talking to him. 

Stiles smiles back--wide and toothy. He’s going to fucking kill his mate. Maritricide. “Well.” He draws the word out as his attention swings back to Alexander. “What do you plan on doing if I go into heat first?” 

“What?!” Alexander looks to Derek, shocked and wordless. “Der, you didn't tell me. Are you on suppressants? I mean, you guys can just do what you guys always do and I'll just stay in my room until I have to head into the clinic, I guess”

Lex bites his lip, nervous by the sudden tension in his friend. “Der, I promised you I wouldn't get in between you and your mate . . . I don't know what to do here,” Lex says around a sob. 

Stiles just throws his hands up. How does Derek even manage with this crybaby?

Derek glares at Stiles before he sits by Alexander and offers him a hug. “We talked this morning and the clinic is going to give Lex a couple of days to register if something comes up.”

At the sight of his mate hugging another omega, Stiles bristled. He sneered at the two of them. “Did my dad call that favor in, too?”

“Stiles!” Derek chastises done with Stiles’ attitude. He gets up to walk to his mate and leans towards him to whisper in his ear. “Stop trying to pick a fight,” he tells Stiles between clenched teeth. 

“Or else what?” Eyes hard, Stiles stares Derek down.

Derek has the urge to shake Stiles, to make him see reason. He’s put up with Stiles’ childish and immature behavior in the past, but Stiles’ is pushing too hard. Only Lucy, sitting in her mother’s lap stops Derek from shouting, from grabbing Stiles. Instead, without taking eyes off Stiles, he tells Lex to get his stuff.    
  
“We’re leaving,” he growls at Stiles. “And when I come back, you and I will have a talk. I hope that’s not too much for you.”

Instantly, Stiles regrets his earlier ire. He’d rather have this out now, anyway. “Did you talk to Chris?”

To try to ease the growing tension in the room, Alexander gets up and walks towards Stiles. He does so slowly, trying not to startle the Stiles. “We’re going to meet him in an hour. That’s what Der was going to tell you, um, before.”

“You’re actually going to meet him?” 

“Yeah.” Alexander nods and looks to Derek for confirmation. 

“Why don’t you spend your heat with him, then?” 

“I don’t  _ know _ him,” Alex answers offendedly. “ _ And _ he’s a hunter. I agreed to meet him to see if I felt comfortable but have the clinic as a backup if I don’t. Right, Der?” Internally, Lex thinks Stiles would have already had all this information if he wasn’t being a gigantic asshole.

“We shouldn’t be late,” is all Derek says, eyes hard. 

“Tell my dad I said hi,” Stiles says, “since you’re apparently much closer to him than you are to me.” 

“Your dad?” Lex is confused. “We’re just going to meet the hunter.”

Derek grabs his keys and his leather jacket, and heads to the door. “Let’s go, Lex,” he calls out from the porch.

“He keeps a gun in a holster at his lower back. Wolfsbane bullets. Have fun!” Stiles wiggles his fingers and gives Alexander a big, fake smile. 

Alexander’s eyes are wide and terrified as he leaves the house. 

*

It’s late when Derek and Alexander get back home. After their meeting with Chris, Derek took Lex to get some things he had forgotten in his haste to run away. Then Derek continued to make up excuses to avoid going home, something he’s never done before. By the time they get home, it’s late and the house is silent. He leaves Alexander to do his business and heads to his bedroom with dread. 

Derek does not want to have this fight and he’s still angry with the way Stiles behaved that afternoon. He makes his way to his bedroom, Stiles is on his side, body rigid. The alpha in him wants to comfort his mate but he knows he can’t let Stiles treat others the way he did. He gets undressed and changes into his pajama bottoms. He lays down over the covers and stairs at the ceiling, unwilling to break the silence first. 

“You wanted to talk,” Stiles says finally. 

“You were so out of line and incredibly rude today,” Derek says quietly. 

Stiles scoffs. “Like you weren’t.” 

“Are you kidding?” Derek sits up to turn on the lights. “Tell me when I was an ass to you?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to consult my dad about Alexander? We’re supposed to be a  _ team _ , Derek.” 

“We  _ are _ a team, Stiles. But you weren’t here. We called the clinic and they kept blocking us and I didn’t want him spending his heat in  _ our _ house. I didn’t have anyone else to turn to. What did you expect me to do?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Derek,  _ call me _ ? That’s all it would have taken.” He mimes talking on the phone. “‘Hey, babe, it’s me. We need a leg up with Alexander. Do you think we should call your dad?’ ‘Yeah, honey, that sounds like a great idea.’  _ Click _ .” 

“What is the big deal that I called your dad? Stiles, are you listening to yourself? I didn’t realize I had to  _ ask you permission _ to speak to your dad.” Derek feels so aggravated. 

“I never said you had to ask my permission! What I’m saying is that it would have been nice to know you were getting him involved. I would have preferred he not know about--” 

“I didn’t  _ plan _ to get him involved. It was a last minute decision made in desperation to have Lex out of the house!”

“But we  _ had _ a  _ plan _ .  _ Chris _ was the plan all along!”

“Yes, Chris was the plan,” Derek concedes, “ _ but _ Lex didn’t feel comfortable having him as the only option. I get it. He’s a _ hunter _ , Stiles. That’s scary for pack.  _ I didn’t trust him when I first met him. _ So we went for the clinic and they wouldn’t give us the time of day. So I made a quick decision to ask your dad for a favor. I didn’t think it would be a big deal. I figured you’d be  _ happy _ to have my friend out of the house and with a plan to return back home.”

Stiles throws his hands up. “Whatever. I’m tired and I haven’t been to sleep yet and I have to work in the morning.” He pulls the covers over his shoulder and lies back down on his side facing the wall. 

“This is the problem, Stiles. When  _ you’re _ done you don’t give a shit about what I think or what I want to say. So, fine. You want this to be all about you, fuck it,” Derek gets up and grabs his pillow before he opens the door he turns to look at Stiles. “I . . .” Derek doesn’t even want to continue, so tired of giving in to Stiles. Of  _ loving _ Stiles enough to appease him and having himself be trampled on because Stiles can’t not be selfish. 

“Somebody’s gotta thing about me,” Stiles mutters, though he knew Derek would be able to hear him. As the door shuts, he punches his pillow into shape and tried to get comfortable. He knew he wouldn’t sleep. 

“Right,” Derek clenches his fists, “I have  _ never _ thought of you.”

*

Stiles tosses and turns for what feels like  _ hours _ . He’s still pissed, and to make matters worse, he can’t fall asleep. The blankets tangle around his ankles. He gets so hot he throws them to the floor. Then his pajamas are too hot, but by the time he realises what’s going on, he’s too far gone. The slick is beginning to pool under his body. 

“Derek,” he says, “Derek, please I need you.” He repeats Derek’s name a few more times before he remembers that their bedroom is soundproof. Derek won’t be able to hear him. 

They’d both been too angry to notice that his heat was so imminent. 

Dragging himself to his feet, Stiles pulls his pajama bottoms back on. They feel like scratchy wool against his heated skin. His phone is on the nightstand, and he manages to tap out a text to his dad.  _ Heat early plz get kids in morning. Asleep now.  _

Stiles opens the bedroom door and hisses into the dark. “Derek!” He doesn’t want to wake the kids, and he  _ certainly _ doesn’t want to wake Alexander. If he’s being honest with himself, he doesn’t even want to spend this heat with Derek, but it’s too late for suppressants. 

“Mommy?” Conor calls from his bedroom door. The air smells sweet and his mom sounds upset. 

Derek can hear Stiles call for him and he almost wants to ignore him. Then he hears his son’s voice full of concern and it gets Derek bolting out of the room. The smell hits him like a freight train. 

“Con, go back to sleep. Mommy’s fine,” he says gently as he approaches Stiles. 

“What do you need?” Derek asks softly. His hand almost makes contact with Stiles’ cheek, trying to take away the discomfort but his mate stiffens before Derek can touch him. He wants to touch his mate, ease his heat but Stiles is stiff and his stance is not friendly. Derek doesn't want to touch Stiles if he's not welcomed. 

It takes all of Stiles’s willpower not to throw himself at his Alpha. He breathes in deeply and lets it out slowly. “Are you still mad at me?” His voice quavers, but only a little bit.  

“I still love you, if that's what you're worried about,” he takes Stiles in his arms then and lifts him, walking him back to their bedroom. 

Stiles squeezes his eyes shut tightly as Derek deposits him on the bed. “You didn’t answer my question. I don’t want you to spend my heat with me out of pity, especially if you’re still mad at me. If that’s the case, you can dig that old knotted dildo out of the closet and lock me in here alone.” 

“I have never slept with you out of pity. I'm angry, yes,” Derek admits, “but I would  _ never _ want you in pain. When have I ever let you suffer? If you don't want me during this heat, I'd never force you. My alpha instincts are telling me to ease your heat, to  _ breed _ you. But all that's irrelevant if you don't want me.”

“I want to resolve this fight!” Stiles says. He has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from moaning. With Derek this close, it’s hard not to inhale his scent, and that has Stiles’s dick standing at attention.

“No time,” Derek pants. The smell of omega in heat is thick in the air, clouding Derek’s head and filling it with instinct alone. “What do you want, baby?” 

Needing, desperately, to put distance between them so he can think, Stiles gets out of bed and goes to stand beside the dresser. “I told you I don’t want to fight with you, and I’m not fucking you as long as we’re fighting.” 

“And I told you  _ I _ wasn’t done with the discussion. Do you think I didn’t hear that parting shot? You’re the only one who thinks of you? So what the fuck do I do? If I’m such a bad alpha, why do you even stand me?” Derek takes a deep breath, trying to calm his agitation. “We don’t have time for this. I won’t touch you unless you want me to. I would never hurt you like that. You have to decide, Stiles. Your cramps will start soon.”

“I don’t care if we don’t have time. I hate feeling like a slave to my own fucking body. So, I’m making time right now. What’s it going to take for you to forgive me?” Stiles grits his teeth as a wave of  _ need _ crashes over him. 

“It’s not about forgiving you. You were out of line, Stiles. I don’t know how else to make you happy. It’s never enough and when I try to make it better, you act like a spoiled child.” Derek really does not want to have this conversation now, but like always he’ll do what Stiles wants. It’s ingrained in him to appease his mate, make him happy, adhere to any demand. Stiles isn’t the only one who is a slave to his biology.

“You are enough!” Stiles slams his hands down on the dresser. The brief smack of pain helps to keep the arousal at bay. “You always act like I’m such a demon because I disagree with you. I can’t say anything to you because it’s always wrong. You always have the perfect comeback for why I’m the bad guy. You keep saying  _ poor Stiles _ when really it’s  _ poor Derek he has to put up with Stiles _ . If I’m so terrible, why don’t you leave? I fucking love you, Derek. I love you so much it  _ hurts _ . You’re the only Alpha I’ve ever been with--the only person I’ve ever  _ kissed _ . I  _ don’t  _ have as much experience in relationships as you do, so sometimes--” he makes a face--“okay,  _ often _ , I make the wrong moves. But every time we fight like this you  _ make me feel like I might as well kill myself because I cannot possibly come back from what I’ve said or done to you  _ this time!” He closes his eyes tightly as his insides begin to clench. Deep, easy breaths, he reminds himself. He can do this. This cannot be as bad as childbirth. 

“Babe,” Derek moves a step forward. “Why don’t you just  _ tell _ me? I never want you to feel like you can’t tell me things. But you act like I never think about you when  _ all I have done since the day I fucking met you is think of you _ . I put you first in everything. All I ask is for you to do the same for me. To not castigate me because I called your dad to help a friend. I love you, Stiles. More than anything. I’d give up my life glady. You think because I have had experiences, which if you think about the people I dated before you . . .”

Stiles has to swallow three times before he’s able to summon enough saliva to speak. The room feels stiflingly hot, like he could pass out at any minute. “I hate feeling like I’m not part of the decision-making. Especially when it involves Alexander.” He drags in another desperate breath. “Remember how you felt about Professor Grant? That’s how I feel about Alexander.” 

Derek’s body goes stiff, thinking about the other alpha makes his blood boil. “I’m sorry,” Derek says sincerely. “I’m sorry if calling your dad was insensitive. I just wanted you to feel comfortable in your own home and didn’t want Lex to make you uneasy. I did it so I could get rid of him as fast as possible while still maintaining his safety.”

“You could have just told me that.” Stiles feels his knees begin to buckle, and he leans more heavily on the dresser. He’s got his forearms braced atop the wood and he’s trembling all over. 

Derek races to Stiles’ side and takes on his weight. “Let’s get you in the bed. I’ll leave you the knotted dildo if you want me out of here but you can’t be like this, babe.”

“I’ll survive,” Stiles forces out through clenched teeth. 

Derek pushes the hair off Stiles’ sweaty forehead. His mate is burning up, body trembling and spasming. “ _ Please _ , Stiles.”

“Not like this, Derek,” Stiles says, “I can’t do this with you if you’re still mad.” 

“I’m sorry. I’m not mad. I’m sorry, baby. Let me help you,” Derek pleads. “Tell me what you want.”

Stiles’s legs give out completely, and he collapses in Derek’s arms. “Need you, Der.” 

“Are you sure?” Derek’s concerned, doesn’t want Stiles to feel forced. 

“No,” Stiles whines pathetically. “I'm not sure about anything right now. It hurts, Der.” He allows Derek to take him back to bed, and he twists both hands up in the blankets beneath his body. 

“Maybe we should call Tracey. I,” it hurts Derek to see Stiles like this. “I don't know what to do here.”

“Just . . . ” Stiles’s tongue darts out to wet his dry lips. “Just fuck me.” Weakly, he spreads his legs in what he hopes is an invitation.

Derek carefully removes Stiles’ pants, massage his thighs along the way. He helps Stiles spread his legs farther apart to try to get at Stiles’ opening. “Your dry,” Derek whispers, surprised. 

“What?” Stiles reaches down to feel himself, but Derek’s right. “We--we have lube, don't we?” He's trying not to let the desperation show. The cramps are getting worse, and he's never let it go on this long. 

“I'm calling Tracey,” Derek goes to find his phone only to realize he left it in the guest room. He takes Stiles’ phone and calls the physician’s private number. 

By the time he's spoken to the omega specialist, Stiles is shaking harder, curled into himself, and hotter than Derek has ever felt him. “Okay, baby. Tracey's coming. We're going to try to ease the heat until she gets here. I don't want to hurt you.”

“Just.. just.. Can you hold me?” Stiles is scared. He's never felt like this before, and he feels completely out of control. Not even omegapause is supposed to feel like this, and it's not supposed to happen this early. He's only 25. “Oh, God, am I dying? I'm not dying, am I?”

Derek gets undressed and rolls Stiles to his side, sliding in back to mold his body to Stiles’ back. He slides an arm under Stiles’ head and the other to rest at his lower belly, completely encased in Derek’s embrace. He runs smooth circles against Stiles’ temples and lower belly, draining his pain and soothing the omega’s anxiety. “I won't let anything happen to you,” it's a promise Derek intends to keep. 

Stiles clings and whimpers. Derek takes the pain, but only the top crust of it. Through his haze of pain and delirium, Stiles sees Tracey come into the room, followed by Alexander. 

“Go away!” Stiles shouts, but it comes out like a croaked whisper. 

Both Tracey and Alexander ignore him. 

Tracey assesses the situation and says to Derek, “When did his heat start?” 

“It wasn't supposed to start for another two weeks or so. This started maybe less than two hours ago. He's never been in this much pain!” 

“Two hours? And he’s not producing slick?” Tracey’s mouth is set in a stern, hard line as she rifles through her bag and retrieves a syringe and a vial. 

“He's never had that problem. What's wrong with him?” Derek growls to the omegologist, wanting answers. 

“It’s a dry heat--a rare derivation of a pseudo heat.” Tracey fills the vial and stabs Stiles in the hip before he can so much as peep. “That’s a synthetic hormone that should, in layman’s terms, kill the dry heat. Unfortunately, it will also act as a suppressant for his natural heat this time around. He should resume his normal schedule by the time his next heat rolls around in a few months.” She stands up and fixes her dark eyes on Alexander. “You’re an omega?” 

Feeling like a butterfly pinned to a board, Alexander nods. “Yes, ma’am.” 

Tracey turns back to Derek and gives him that same tight-lipped smile. “There’s your problem.” 

“What do you mean?” Derek continues to caress Stiles’ draining as much pain as he can. Stiles is fast asleep, body more relaxed than its been since this started and Derek can feel his temperature cooling down. 

“This close to heat, Stiles, as an omega, is in a delicate hormonal state. Having another omega around has upset the balance and sent his body, for lack of a better word, into overdrive. Heat overdrive, in this circumstance. Had you knotted as soon as it came on, it probably wouldn't have gotten this bad.” 

Derek looks from Tracey to Lex, feeling so incredibly guilty that  _ he _ has caused his mate so much harm. His voice cracks, “what can I do now? How can I make this better?”

“Well, the best way to fix it is to ensure that it doesn’t happen again. Stiles is especially sensitive, so bringing a new omega into what he perceives to be his den so close to his heat is really not a good idea. I’d say give it like a week buffer--perhaps try to minimize any house guests that aren’t immediate family--the week before his heat. He should be fine when he wakes up in the morning, so your . . . friend should be able to stay without causing further complications.” She gives Alexander a sad sort of pitying smile. 

“I didn’t know,” Alexander says softly. He looks close to tears. 

“ _ We _ didn't know. It won't happen again. Does he need a prescription for anything? Does he need anything from me?” Derek looks at Tracey, heartbreak in his eyes for the pain he'd caused Stiles. 

Tracey lays a warm hand on Derek’s arm. “Just be there for him. It’s hard to be an omega, especially one who grew up without an omega parent in his life. He doesn’t need anything medication-wise, no. And Derek? Don’t be so hard on yourself. It’s always difficult when an Alpha takes on a second omega.” 

Derek does a double take, realization hitting him like a slap in the face. “I haven’t taken on another omega. He’s  _ just _ a friend who will be leaving soon. Nothing’s happening here,” Derek is adamant, willing Tracey to believe him.

Wishing he could just fade into the background, Alexander swallows and takes a step back. 

“Oh.” Tracey looks from Derek to Alexander and back again. “My apologies, then. I completely misread the situation. Stiles’s reaction--his dry heat--is not uncommon in situations like that. May I ask, then, Derek, as a friend and not as your omegologist: Why do you have an unmated omega staying in your house so close to Stiles’s heat?” 

“That’s my fault,” Alexander speaks up shyly. “I came uninvited and Derek was too nice to send me away when  _ I’m _ just as close to my heat. But I’m leaving soon. I’m so sorry.”

“To be fair,” Derek says guiltily, “I didn’t think it would affect Stiles like this. We’re mated and I  _ thought _ Stiles knew how much I love him. How I would never take on anyone else.” Derek looks at Stiles, a pain in his chest so deep he doesn’t know whether to roar in rage or cry while holding his mate in his arms. 

“It’s not about love or lack thereof. Think of it like this: Stiles’s hormones don’t understand emotions. They don’t know that how much you love him or that you love him at all. They know that there was another omega in his den near his heat and his body reacted accordingly. It’s nothing you did intentionally, nor anything you could have known.” 

“I’m going to stay in a hotel, Der,” Alexander interrupts, backing away from the bedroom. “You gave me the clinic number and I’ll call in the morning see if I can stay there.”

  
“I think that would be best, Lex,” Derek doesn’t even watch Alexander leave, too focused on Stiles and the mess he’s made 

Alexander disappears from the room. 

“I really do think you should consider seeing an alphologist. Like I said before, I can give you a referral.” 

“I think maybe that would be best,” Derek is too embarrassed to reject any suggestion she has. 

She hands him a business card with a name and a phone number on it. “Get some rest, Derek. You’ve been through hell tonight.” 

Derek moves to walk Tracey out, uncaring of his nudity when he sees Tracey shake her head. He stays with Stiles, listening to the omegologist make her way to the car. He breathes in his mate’s scent, it’s bitter with the chemicals Tracey injected but at least he no longer smells distressed. 

It’s a long time before Derek can fall asleep. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THERAPY!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the false alarm last night. I got excited and thought we hadn't posted chapter 3 yet.

When Stiles wakes, he feels slow and groggy. His limbs are heavy. Beside him, Derek is lying awake with his gaze on Stiles. He looks concerned.

 

“What happened?” Stiles asks. His tongue feels like it's made of lead. “What happened to my heat?” He's not hot. In fact, he's cold enough that he gathers the blankets around his chin. He wishes he had a pair of socks on.

 

“It was my fault,” Derek whispers brokenly, too afraid to reach out and touch Stiles. Derek had wrapped around him until there was no more pain to drain and then had let Stiles sleep off whatever it was that Tracey injected him with. “I'm so sorry, Stiles.”

 

Stiles shakes his head. “Don't. Don't be sorry. Just tell me what happened. The last thing I remember is you putting me back to bed. Can you get me some socks? My feet are freezing.” 

 

Derek gets up to find Stiles socks and extra blankets. He helps put Stiles socks on and then tucks him in with all the blankets he could find. 

 

Without meeting his eyes, Derek explains what Tracey told him about the dry heat and Alexander’s involvement. “Alexander’s gone. He checked into a hotel and will be there until his heat hits him,” he finishes as he sits as far away from Stiles as he can. Derek can't meet his eyes, can't stand to touch him after what he put Stiles through. 

 

“Derek,” Stiles says, fighting to get one hand out from under the blankets to hold out to him. “Come here.”

 

Derek gets up before Stiles can touch him, pacing the room like a caged animal. “You should get some rest. Tracey said you'll be a little tired from the medicine she gave you and not to worry if your heat is pushed back. I’ll,” he's torn between going to Stiles, fighting every instinct that tells him to comfort his mate, and run as far away as he can so he's not a hazard to the ones he loves. “I’ll go make you something to eat.”

 

“ _ Derek _ ,” Stiles says again. “Please don't go. Not right now.”

 

“I'm sorry,” Derek walks back to the bed, feeling awkward for  the first time since they mated. “What can I do?”

 

“Hold me?” Stiles asks. He looks up at Derek with wide eyes. He's so disoriented and his body aches and he just wants to be surrounded by his Alpha right now. 

 

“Of course, baby,” Derek moves to lay back down, lifting the blankets and crowding Stiles. “Is this okay?”

 

“Mmmm, no.” Stiles pulls and prods until Derek is wrapped around him from the back and the blankets cover their front. “Now we’re okay. Much, much better than okay.” He takes Derek’s hand and kisses the inside of his palm. “I’m sorry Alexander left.” 

 

“He never should have been here. I never should have done that to you,” Derek kisses each knuckle on Stiles’ hand. He knows their talk isn’t over but Derek doesn’t want to bring it up, doesn’t want to upset Stiles more. He’ll apologize as long as he has to as long as Stiles is okay. 

 

“It wasn’t your fault.” Stiles twists his head around so he can see Derek. “I didn’t have to lose my shit over it. I didn’t--I can’t . . . it’s so hard to explain. When I’m getting my heat, it’s like I’m not in my mind. Or like I am, but I can’t control myself? That sounds ridiculous.” Stiles shakes his head like he can clear the cobwebs. 

 

“I get it. It’s like instinct you can’t control. Tracey said it was omega hormones,” Derek explains. He snuggles into Stiles’ closer, needing the warmth and reassurance he gets when he holds the omega in his arms. “Why don’t you sleep? I won’t go anywhere unless the kids need something.” 

 

Stiles bolts upright, jerking himself out of Derek’s grasp. “The kids! Who’s watching the kids?” One hand goes to his head, where he's seemingly set off a throbbing headache. “Ow.”

 

“Hey, hey,” Derek reaches out, holding Stiles and easing him back down. “I left the door slightly opened so I could hear them if they’re moving around.”

 

Reluctantly, Stiles relaxes. He trusts Derek to hear and react quickly enough if something were to happen. “Conor’s with them?” 

 

“Conor’s still asleep. He woke up when you called for me last night and he was worried. They’ll be fine so please just rest.”

 

But Stiles can’t relax. He can’t rest. “Are we good?” Even to his human eyes, Derek is tense and twitchy. He hadn’t even wanted to lay in the bed. 

 

“As long as you’re okay,” Derek answer softly. 

 

“Kiss me.” Stiles tilts his chin up, petulantly, like he used to do when he was much younger.

 

Derek pecks Stiles’ lips, nuzzling his cheek before pulling away. He caresses Stiles’ neck and collarbone, plants chaste kisses before he settles down. “Get some rest.” 

 

“No, come back,” Stiles says. “Give me a real kiss.” 

 

“You’re exhausted, baby,” Derek tries. 

 

“Not for a kiss,” he tries again, batting his eyelashes at Derek. “What? Do I have morning breath, or something? I can go brush my teeth.”

 

Derek gives Stiles a flat look, in the ten years they’ve been together neither of them have given two shits about morning breath. “You let me kiss you when I’ve had my tongue in your ass. I don’t want you to exert yourself.”

 

“Yeah.” Stiles rolls his eyes. “Kissing you’s such an exertive chore.” 

 

Derek chuckles, glad that Stiles’ sarcasm is back because it means he’s on the mend. “Come here,” Derek pulls Stiles closer, placing kisses on his forehead, cheeks, nose, and lips. “You are never a chore,” Derek reassures. He still feels insecure, doesn’t want to push Stiles and is not really in the mood for more than cuddles. 

 

Sighing, Stiles tucks his nose into Derek’s collarbone. “Thank you for taking care of me. And calling Tracey.” 

 

“Stiles,” Derek lifts Stiles’ chin so he can look into Stiles’ eyes before he continued. “You’re  _ everything _ to me. I would trade my life for yours without hesitation. So, me  _ taking care of you _ is nothing for what I wouldn’t do for you.” 

 

Of course, it goes the other way, too. Stiles is quiet for a moment as he considers this. “I hate how much we fight,” he says finally. 

 

Derek sighs and can’t meet Stiles’ eyes. “I know. I hate it, too.” Derek already called the alphologist and set up an appointment. He feels embarrassed that he feels he even needs one. 

 

“Let’s set a date for the wedding.” 

 

“What?” Derek is surprised by the request. “Do you think we’re ready? I mean, after yesterday . . .”

 

Stiles raises an eyebrow. “Would it have been different if we were married?” 

 

“I don’t want to fight with you, and we’ve fought so much lately,” Derek laments. “I just don’t want to be one of those couples that fights every day. I don’t think I could handle seeing Conor or any of the other kids devastated again.”

 

“I couldn’t either.” Stiles pecks a kiss to Derek’s cheek. “Go get my babies, would you?” 

 

“Anything you want, love,” Derek gets up to move, leaves a kiss on Stiles’ forehead before putting on his pajamas and a tank. “Do you want anything to eat before I wake them?”

 

Stiles stretches as he considers the question. “Actually, yeah. Let me come down with you.”  He throws the blankets off himself and shivers slightly at the cold air of the bedroom. “Man, whatever Tracey gave me really fucked me up.”  

 

Derek goes to Stiles and lifts him and sits him back at the head of the bed. “Just stay here. I’ll bring anything you need.” 

 

“Der--” Stiles tries, and fails. He’s still feeling shaky anyway, and he knows that if even tries to get out of bed, Derek will just keep putting him back. “So what am I supposed to do up here all alone while you cook?”

 

“I’ll bring the kids first then. I’ll take orders,” Derek smiles Stiles’ way, hoping he could make up for all his blunders in some way. 

 

“Then you're downstairs all alone.” Stiles crosses his arms over his chest.

 

Derek gives Stiles a sad smile, “I’ll make a quick breakfast and come back to you as soon as I can.”

 

“Just make me a bowl of cereal and come back,” Stiles says, his tone growing agitated.

 

Derek walks to Stiles and grabs his face, kissing him hard before pulling back. “I won’t leave, baby. I promise.” 

 

Derek hurries to get the kids and leaves Teddy for last because he’s the hardest to wake. He has the twins on each shoulder, Conor leaning sleepily on one side and Tali dozing on his shoulder. 

 

“Teddy, wake up.”

  
He gets grumbled  _ don’t wanna _ from his son. 

  
“Mama wants cuddle times,” he says gently.

 

“Mama? Big bed?” Teddy sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

 

“Yeah, buddy. Come on and climb on this side so we can go.”

  
They make their way back to their room slowly, Derek is carrying four of his children after all.    
  
“Look what I brought you,” Derek says in a sing song voice.

 

Love bursts through Stiles’s body as Derek helps their children clamber onto the bed with him. He hugs and kisses them each in turn as they snuggle close to him.

 

“I missed you guys.”

 

“Missed you, Mommy!” Teddy says.

 

“I missed you, Mom.” Conor’s voice is softer, and he sits farther away than his brothers and sisters.

 

“Hey,” Stiles says, holding his eldest’s gaze intently. “I'm right here.”

 

“Mommy is feeling a little sick so I'm making breakfast. Anything special?” Derek tries to keep his mood light, not wanting the kids to be concerned. He knows his eldest isn't doing well so Derek hopes he agrees to spend some time with Derek in the kitchen. 

 

Remy and Lucy shout out their choices at the same time.

 

“Waffles!”

 

“Pancakes!”

 

“Daddy probably can't balance those two at once. Natty, tie breaker?”

 

His eldest daughter thinks for a moment, an exaggerated look of concentration on her face. “Waffles.”

 

“Waffles, it is,” Stiles declares.

 

“Con, do you want to help me?” Derek asks gently. 

 

Con is sitting on the bed, isolated from the cuddles his siblings are taking full advantage of. Con looks at his dad and nods his head, sliding off the bed to pad quietly and stand next to Derek. 

 

Derek settles a hand on the back of his neck, offering comfort and pack. 

 

They go to the kitchen in silence and Conor sits on a stool in front of the stove. Derek gathers the ingredients and asks Conor to mix them while he heats the skillet. 

 

“Con?” Derek calls to his son who hasn't spoken a word since Derek woke him up. 

 

Eyes on the bowl in front of him, Conor says, “Uh huh.”

 

“What's wrong?”

 

Conor shrugs. “Nothin.”

 

As a young werewolf, Conor forgets they can hear lies. Derek let’s the lie pass because he does not want to upset his son further. He sets the waffle iron to the side and sits next to Conor. “Hey, baby,” he calls quietly, “tell me what’s going through your mind.”

 

At his dad’s insistence, he stops mixing. Finally, he turns to Derek. “Are you and mom gonna get unmated?”

 

Derek is taken aback by the question and his heart breaks by the smell of sadness wafting off his son. “Are you asking if your mom and I are going to break our mating bond?”

 

“Yeah.” Conor chews his lip nervously. “Are you?”

 

“No, Con,” Derek reassures, “we love each other, and love you guys so much.” Derek tries to act confident in his vehemence and then he’s struck by a thought. “Do you want us to be apart?”

“No . . . ” Conor says and his dark brows draw over his eyes. 

 

“Where is this coming from?” Derek asks in confusion. He feels even more guilty now, somehow believing this too is his fault. 

 

“Well, you guys were fighting. And then Billy was saying that his parents were fighting and they were getting unmated. And so I thought maybe you and mom were fighting because you were getting unmated.” His wide eyes fill with tears. “I don’t want you to get unmated.” 

 

“Oh, baby, come here,” Derek opens his arms and hopes that Conor will take comfort from his father. “We’re not breaking our bond. When your mom and I mated, it was forever. We  _ can’t _ ever break up, okay?” 

 

Conor nods against his dad’s shoulder. “Not even if Mom got real mean like Uncle Peter?”

 

“No, baby. I promise you the bond that your mom and I have is for life. I don’t think mom will ever be like Peter. Nothing to worry about there.”

 

“But what if?” Earnestly, Conor pulls away to stare his dad in the eyes. “What if he did?” 

 

“What would you like to happen, baby? I want nothing but for you and your mommy to be happy,” Derek squeezes Conor.

 

“Please don’t get unmated.” Conor squeezes Derek hard. Then he adds much softer, “But if you did, I’d want to go with you.” 

 

Derek looks at his little boy, he feels so much love for his first born he doesn’t know how to handle it sometimes. He knows parents shouldn’t have favorites but he will admit, if only to himself, that Conor will always be his number one. He was his first born, his first instance of a true family after all the tragedy that was his life. He wants nothing but happiness for his boy and he will do everything in his power to ensure that.

 

“Conor, look at me,” Derek says firmly and waits for Conor to meet his eyes. “There is nothing I wouldn’t do for your mother, you and your siblings. You will  _ never _ have to choose between us, okay?”

 

Conor nods solemnly. 

 

Derek hugs Conor one last time, kissing his forehead before whispering  _ I love you _ . 

 

“Let’s finish up with breakfast so we can maybe watch a movie.”

 

Eager, Conor gets back to mixing. 

 

*

 

They’re almost halfway through  _ Finding Nemo _ when Stiles smells waffles. 

 

“I think Daddy’s on his way up,” he whispers conspiratorially to his children. 

 

Natalia and Teddy perk up, but the twins are too engrossed in the movie they’ve seen hundreds of times that they don’t respond. 

 

Derek walks in with a stack of waffles, the bottle of syrup and utensils while Conor brings the plates and the pitcher of juice. 

 

“Who's ready to eat?”

 

A chorus of “Me!”s echoes through the bedroom. 

 

Derek and Conor dole out plates and food and then settle in with their own plates. For the first time since Conor was a toddler, he opts to sit between Derek’s raised knees,  cuddling to Derek’s chest as he munches away on his food. 

Derek kisses the top of Conor’s head and then looks at Stiles. His mate’s color is coming back and he looks content to be surrounded by their children. It makes Derek's heart swell with so much love and he hopes the alphologist can help him figure things out before he loses what's most precious to him. 

 

Stiles leans over, and though the angle is awkward and Conor and Natalia are in the way, he gives Derek a brief kiss. “Thank you for making breakfast, baby.” 

 

A pleased rumble eases from Derek's throat at the show of affection. “Anytime.”

 

*

  
Derek arrives early to his appointment and he sits in his car, trying to convince himself this was a good idea. He’s scared, he’ll admit it. He doesn’t want to hash out all his faults and all the wrong he’s done in his life. He’s doing it for his family, so that his children will never have to worry about their parents. It’s the thought of his mate and their children that drive Derek out of his car and into the luxury building of the alphologist he had called.

 

Derek walks up to the door man who directs him to the top suite. Once the elevator doors open, he’s greeted by a large open space. It’s soothing and quiet. He’s greeted warmly by a plump older man who asks him to fill out some paperwork and then take a seat.

 

Derek does so, fighting the urge to lie on these forms that will most likely be read by someone who will judge him for his failures. He thinks about  _ why _ he’s there and he answers the questions the best he can. He hands in the form and sits idly, staring out the long expanse of windows on the far wall. 

 

The alphologist is a man in his early 50s with a big, genuine smile. He steps out of his office and says, “Derek?” 

 

“Yes,” Derek answers nervously

 

“Come on back. I’m Jim.” He holds his hand out for Derek to shake it, and then invites him into his office. 

 

The room is cozy, with cream colored walls and white trim. Jim’s desk is pushed into one corner, though it’s hard to tell its a desk for all the papers strewn across its top. 

 

Jim directs Derek onto one of the soft leather chairs on either side of a low table. “Can I get you some water? A cup of coffee?” 

 

A couple of shots of wolfsbane, Derek thinks but shakes his head at the offer. 

 

Taking a seat across from him, Jim gives Derek his full attention. “So what brings you to my office today?”

 

Derek tense, unwilling and not ready for this. Clearing his throat and shifting nervously he says, “My omega’s omegologist referred me.”

 

“Why do you think she referred you?” 

 

“I’m a failure of an alpha. I’ve hurt my mate. I’ve hurt my children. Take your pick, doc,” Derek can’t help but shrug, feeling like he’s being dissected. 

 

“Tell me about your mate.”

 

Thinking about Stiles brings a smile to Derek’s face, he's so in love with the omega it hurts. “Stiles is smart and funny. He's beautiful, always has been,” Derek answers with a loving sigh. “He can also be a little shit when he wants to be. He's loyal and the best omega I could have ever found. He's an amazing mother.” 

 

Derek feels embarrassed by how much his feelings are being projected to this stranger but he can't help but name all the qualities that Derek has found attractive and loved about the omega.

 

“How long have you been together?” 

 

“Almost ten years.”

 

“That’s pretty impressive. And your children? How many do you have?” 

 

“We have five children, three boys and two girls.”

 

“That sounds like quite a house full,” Jim says with a smile. “How old are they?” 

 

“Is that important for you to know?” Derek asks suspiciously, feeling protective of this stranger knowing his children. 

 

“Not if you don’t feel comfortable telling me. You don’t have to tell me anything that makes you uncomfortable. Well, it sounds like you have a beautiful family. What makes you think you’ve failed them?”

 

This is what hurts, the reason Derek agreed to this fiasco in the first place. With a pang in his chest, “my mate and I fight a lot. My kids have started to notice . . . and my oldest asked me if me and his mother were going to break up. My mate has gone into two pseudo heats because I failed to protect him from the stress.” By the time Derek finishes, he's out of breath and can feel his chest rise and fall quickly. 

 

“So you’re saying that your children have seen you fighting with your omega--What’s his name?” 

 

“Stiles.”

 

“Okay, Stiles. And Stiles has had two pseudo heats.” Jim purses his lips. “Let’s establish something: Your job, Derek, is not to protect Stiles from stress. That’s an impossible task. Let’s say Stiles is caught in rush-hour traffic and that begins to stress him out. Can you be responsible for knowing that he’s stressed and taking away that stress?”

 

“Yes!” Derek answers vehemently. “I should be able to protect him from  _ everything _ . It's not just about protecting him,  _ Jim _ . I  _ caused _ his stress!”

 

“Picture this, Derek. Close your eyes.” He waited while Derek did. “Stiles is sitting in traffic. You’re home with the kids. He’s stressed. He’s got less than a fourth tank of gas, and traffic is hardly crawling forward. Tell me how, at that moment, you propose to relieve Stiles’s stress.”

“He could call me.”

 

“His cell phone is dead.” 

 

Derek stares at Jim with hard eyes, he feels like he's being pushed into a corner. “I'd try to make it better when he got home,” Derek retorts. 

 

“As would any good Alpha, right? But  _ in that moment _ , you couldn’t help him. Your job is to help him when he gets home, is it not?”

 

“I let another omega close to his heat stay in  _ our _ home and I didn't care that Stiles didn't like it. Stiles was close to his heat, too.  _ I knew that _ . And a day later, he's sick and  _ I couldn't help him!” _

 

“This was his pseudo heat?” 

 

“Yes,” Derek answers through clenched teeth. 

 

“And you brought another omega into the house  _ knowing _ that it would cause Stiles to go into pseudo heat?”

 

“No, of course not,” Derek tells him offendedly. “I would never do that to him if I could help it.”

 

“Precisely. At no point did you  _ knowingly _ put your omega in harm’s way, like any alpha worth his salt.” 

 

“But I knew Stiles didn't want Lex in our home,” Derek says stubbornly. 

 

“Do you always give your children everything they want?” 

 

“No,” Derek says confused. 

 

“So why would Stiles be any different?” 

 

“I don’t know,” Derek admits. 

 

“Sometimes, we, as Alphas, feel like we’re responsible for giving everything to and being everything for our omegas. But we have to remember that we have to take care of ourselves first. If we’re empty, how can we hope to fill up our omegas? It may sound counterproductive, but we have to put ourselves first so that there’s something left for the omegas.” Jim shifts in his chair. 

 

“I did that once,” Derek says quietly.

 

“Tell me about that.” 

 

“It got my entire family killed.” 

 

“Can you tell me a little more about that? How did putting yourself first play a part in the deaths of your family members?”

 

“I loved someone I knew I wasn’t supposed to. I didn’t care that my family wouldn’t approve of who she was. She killed everyone I loved.”

 

“And in that relationship, did you put yourself first or her first?” 

 

“I loved her, stupidly I loved her. At the time, her happiness was my happiness.” The thought of Kate and everything that happens makes Derek slump in his chair and stares at the ceiling.

 

“So you put her first.” 

 

“I was 16 years old. I thought that was how to love.”

 

“Forgetting to put yourself first will continue to create negativity in your life, Derek. You’re not going to be able to protect everyone. Your children are going to face troubles. Your omega is going to have stress in his life. As much as I wish I could tell you that it’s possible to protect everyone you love from this world, we both know that’s not true. I think it would be prudent for you to start by forgiving yourself. Neither Stiles’s pseudo heat nor the loss of your family was your fault.” 

 

“I dont know how to do that,” Derek whispers brokenly. 

 

“Let’s try an exercise.” Jim gets up and retrieves a few blank pieces of paper from the tray of his printer as well as a pen. He hands both of these to Derek. “I want you to write down for me a few of the things that you feel guilty about. One per paper, please.” 

 

“Right now?”

 

“Yes.” Jim gives him a small smile. 

 

Derek takes the paper and pen and starts to write things that easily come to mind. By the time he’s on the last sheet of paper he looks up at the alphologist and wonders if he’s too fucked up to ask for more paper. He hands the papers back to Jim wordlessly. 

 

“No, you hang on to those. I want you to hold the first one up and read it to me.”

 

Derek takes the first one in the stack, “family’s death,” he reads out loud. 

 

“That’s not your fault. Now, I want you to rip that piece of paper into as many pieces as you can. I want to see confetti. Throw them all over the floor.” 

 

“This is ridiculous,” Derek says under his breath. He rips the paper into small squares and looks up at the doctor waiting to be told what to do next. 

 

“Go ahead. Throw the pieces on the floor. They’ll vacuum.” 

 

Derek looks at Jim and the floor, feeling guilty for the mess he’ll cause. He hesitates for a minute, and then he throws the paper into the air in front of him. He watches the paper fall slowly to the ground. 

 

With a wide smile, Jim claps his hands together like he’s just seen a show. “Excellent!” he booms. “Now, the next one.” 

 

“What?” Derek looks at his thick stack, almost glad he didn’t ask for more. “You want me to rip each paper?”

 

“I want you to read it to me first. But yes.” 

 

Derek does, he reads every sheet of paper and rips it. By the end of the exercise he feels a bit like a kid.

 

As Derek reads off the infractions, Jim reminds him that they were not his fault. He kicks a toe out to scatter some of the confetti at their feet. “How did that feel?”

 

“A bit weird,” Derek answers honestly, “but I liked it.” 

 

“Good. So, for next time, I want to give you a little bit of homework. Just a bit. Every time you feel guilty about something--it could be forgetting to buy milk at the store or thinking about the family you lost--I want you to write it down. You can use a journal or the computer or just a piece of paper--whatever makes you comfortable. And I want you to bring that list back with you next week.” 

 

“Okay,” Derek agrees. He stands up to shake Jim’s hand, much more agreeable to the alphologist then when he first arrived.

 

“It was very nice to meet you, Derek.” He walks his newest client to the door. “Thank you for coming in here today. That took a lot of courage.” 

 

Embarrassed, Derek nods. “Do I see you weekly?”

 

“I think that would be ideal to start. We can see less of each other as your treatment progresses, but ultimately it’s up to you. Some of my patients see me more than once a week and others I see only once a month. It just depends. Do you have any other questions?” 

 

“No, Jim. Thank you.” Derek walks out to the reception area and schedules his next appointment before heading home. 

 

*

 

Somehow, the Sheriff manages to beat Stiles back to the house. He's got the kids at the kitchen table snacking on peanut butter and celery when Stiles comes in.

 

“Hello,” Stiles says five times, kissing each of the children on the top of the head. “Dad, I never thought you'd be able to juggle five kids, considering you only had one.”

 

The sheriff raises an eyebrow. “Son, you were the work of 10.”

 

“Funny. Derek’s not home yet?”

 

“Nope. Just us.”

 

“Papa made us celry!” Remy announces, holding up celery in both hands. He's got peanut butter in his hair, and Stiles winces.

 

“At least it's not chocolate.” Stiles tugs at his tie. “I'm gonna go change. I’ll be back in a minute.”

 

Derek walks in the house and sees the his father in law and his kids sitting at the table. “Hey, John. Thanks for watching them.”

 

Derek’s relationship with the sheriff is tentative at best and he feels he’s come a long way from being ostracized by the man at every turn. He spoke to John about the alphologist and how important it was for Stiles not to know about it right now. After today’s session, Derek feels slightly more at ease with the idea of going back but does not want to worry his mate anymore than he already has.

 

“How are my munchkins doing?” he addresses his kids, caressing each one of their heads and leaving his scent on them. It’s not often Derek doesn’t see them for the day, especially the younger ones. Each of his kids talks over the other and the sound of chatter, of his family fills derek with warmth.

 

“Where’s Stiles?” Derek asks John.

 

“He’s changing,” John looks at Derek solemnly. “How was it?” he whispers.  

 

Derek looks towards the stairs and makes sure he doesn’t hear Stiles approaching before he answers. His kids are too busy talking to each other to pay attention to the adults talking so Derek does not care if they hear him. “It was better than I expected. I’m going back next week.” 

 

At the top of the stairs, Stiles pauses. He can hear Derek and his dad talking in the kitchen.

 

“Hey, hon, can you come up here for a minute, please?” he calls before walking back into the bedroom. 

 

Derek stops mid sentence when Stiles calls for him. He excuses himself before meeting Stiles at their bedroom door. “Hey,” Derek says in the doorway. 

 

“Hey yourself.” Stiles stalks forward, slides his arms around Derek’s waist and into the back pockets of his jeans, and pulls him close. He attacks Derek’s mouth with a wet kiss. “I missed you.” 

 

“Mmm,” Derek hums into the kiss. He continues to kiss his way down Stiles’ neck and takes a deep inhale. “You smell good,” he tells Stiles. He flips them around, Stiles’ back against the door and gets down on his knees. Derek lifts Stiles’ shirt and kisses down Stiles’ stomach, licking into his belly button. Sliding down Stiles’ pajama bottoms, Derek nips and sucks at each hip bone, leaving his mark on Stiles’ skin.

 

Derek swallows Stiles down his throat with no warning. He can feel Stiles get hard in his mouth, tasting the precum and Stiles’ unique flavor. He bobs his head up and down, twirling his tongue on the head of Stiles’ cock while his hand is fondling the omega’s balls. Derek’s long middle finger plays with Stiles’ rim as his hand cups him and Derek’s mouth never stops. He wants to taste Stiles on his tongue before the kids, or worse John, come looking for them.

 

“Derek,” Stiles whispers harshly. He was planning for a kiss, not a blowjob. Not that he's complaining. He twists his hands in Derek’s hair. Though his dad and the kids are right downstairs, he can't help but enjoy the spontaneous thrill of this. He’s leaking slick already, can feel it slipping down his thighs. “I could stay in your mouth all day, but we should probably make this quick.” As he says those words, Derek presses a single finger inside him, and that's all it takes for Stiles to come down his throat with a strangled groan.

 

Derek swallows Stiles down and licks him clean, kissing the head of Stiles’ dick one last time before setting the pajama pants back in place. He stands to kiss Stiles, sharing Stiles’ come with the omega before pulling away. “That was good,” Derek says with a smile. “Go ahead downstairs, I’m going to quickly clean up.”

 

Stiles drags Derek in for one last wet kiss. On his way out, he smacks his hand against Derek’s ass. “I love you.” His dark eyes are glittering.

 

*

 

Stiles elects to see Tracey alone. As much as he wants Derek there, he also needs some time to express himself.

 

He slouches in the chair across from Tracey’s desk and chews his thumbnail. “I don't know where to start.”

 

“How about you start by telling me what brought you here today? Was it the pseudo heat?” Tracey asks concern and empathy on her face. 

 

“I guess.” Stiles shrugs. “I don’t really remember it that well. I sort of blacked out, I guess. Derek told me what happened and we sort of agreed that I should come back here.” He lets out a frustrated sigh. “I hate feeling like I’m broken and I need you to fix me.” 

 

“Well, let's try to figure this out. This appointment was scheduled prior to the pseudo heat. Let's talk about what originally brought you here and then we’ll work our way through everything else.”

 

Sighing again, Stiles tries to parse it out in his mind. His thoughts are going in a hundred different directions. “Alexander,” he says finally, after warring with whether or not to say anything. “Derek apparently had this . . . omega he used to know in New York. He showed up  _ completely unexpected _ , not to mention uninvited at our house and . . . ruined everything.”  

 

Tracey listens attentively. “So Alexander is the reason you're here, Stiles?” 

 

“I guess, yeah.” Stiles shrugs one shoulder. 

 

“It's just you and me, Stiles. You can say whatever is on your mind. No judgment here,” Tracey tries to reassure. 

 

“Honestly?” Stiles says, feeling righteous anger swell in his chest, “I think he’s trying to steal Derek.” 

 

“What's making you think he's trying to steal your husband?”

 

“Well, the fact that he kissed him, for one!” 

 

“He knew Derek was mated to you?” Tracey asks surprised. 

 

“Well . . . “ Stiles thinks for a minute. “No. Not then. He just sort of waltzed into the house--after assuming I was the fucking  _ housekeeper _ and planted one on Derek! Like I’m not standing there! Like our  _ five children _ aren’t in the living room waiting for a blanket fort! That one really pissed me off, by the way.” 

 

“And Derek reciprocated his advances?” 

 

“Of course not!” 

 

“Then what is it about Alexander that you see as a threat?”

 

“The fact that he had heat sex with Derek before Derek and I even met. Then he shows up at my house expecting to have heat sex  _ again _ ! Like, Derek is not a fucking drive-thru window!”

 

“You feel very strongly, Stiles,” Tracey starts. 

 

“Of course I do! Derek’s my mate!” 

 

“But everything you've described happened before Derek met you. Has Derek made it clear you both are monogamous?”

 

“Not . . . in those words? But Alexander kissing him definitely happened  _ after  _ Derek met me.” 

 

“And at the time Alexander was not aware that Derek was mated--”

 

“No because he was too busy shoving his tongue down Derek’s throat!” 

 

“Take a deep breath, Stiles,” Tracey says calmly. “I want to put a couple of things in perspective. Would that be okay?”

 

“Sure,” Stiles says, though his tone betrays the exact opposite. 

 

“I think the most important thing here is how Alexander is bringing up many insecurities about yourself and your mating. Also, I think it's telling that you made this appointment  _ before _ Alexander existed in your life. So, Stiles, what's really going on?” Tracey talks as gently as she can. 

 

Looking up from his lap, Stiles fixes Tracey with an uneasy look. “It all started a few weeks ago when I went up to the nest.” He relays the story to her, of falling asleep, waking up, and fighting with Derek later. “So I think I want another baby. And Derek’s been really supportive of it. But the bigger problem is that I didn’t feel like I could tell him. It’s like everything leads to a fight with us. Alexander was just like the . . . the straw that broke the camel’s back, I guess.” 

 

“What is the fighting about?” 

 

“Everything, practically. He got mad at me because I lied to him about wanting a baby at first. Fucking werewolf hearing.” 

 

“You felt you had to lie to your husband.” It's said as a statement.

 

“Yeah,” Stiles said, feeling like he is defending himself yet again, “I did.” 

 

“That's something we can work with, Stiles. If you don't feel like you can be honest with the person you're spending your life with, I can help you figure out what's behind that mistrust.”

 

“Thank God you can because I was starting to think I was just a pathologic liar and Derek was the innocent bystander saddled with me.”

 

“It does take two to tango,” she smiles at Stiles. “Does Derek lie to you?”

 

“Not that I know of, but then again, I’m not a human lie detector, so . . . ”

 

“Yes, being a werewolf does have its advantage,” Tracey agrees. “But it's also about gut instinct, right? What does your gut tell  _ you _ , Stiles?”

 

“That I’m an asshole.” 

 

“What makes you berate yourself so harshly?” 

 

“Because I’m always the one starting the fight. Or at least it’s always my fault. And Derek . . . “ Stiles sighs and shakes his head. “Derek’s the perfect one. He never lies, never says the wrong thing. It’s always me.”

 

“Even Disney princes are not perfect,” Tracey says gently. “Do you want to be mated to Derek?”

 

Stiles just stares at here. “What does one have to do with the other? Of course I wanted to be mated to Derek; he’s my life. But I need help . . . sucking less? I don’t . . . I don’t have the right words. Like, I keep making the same mistakes, and every time, Derek treats it like I’ve just told him I sold Conor or something.” 

 

“I ask because you make Derek sound like a saint and you're the  _ thing _ he puts up with instead of his mate and mother of his children,” she begins, assertiveness and compassion in her voice. “There are a lot of insecurities here, Stiles. And I think your insecurities are a big source of conflict.”

 

Stiles makes a wild gesture with his hands. “Well,  _ yeah. _ That’s what he makes me feel like. Every time I fuck up it’s like--” he sighs and furrows his brow like he’s imitating Derek--“ _ Really, Stiles? You did the thing again and I can’t believe you’re too fucking stupid to keep doing the thing.  _ But he doesn’t  _ do  _ anything about it. I’m half afraid he’s going to leave me, but he’s not really doing to. He just makes me feel guilty about the fact that I’m not perfect.” 

 

“Does he call you stupid or a fuck up?”

 

“No.” Stiles stares at his lap.

 

“Does he ever say any of these things that would belittle you?”

 

“No, but that’s how he makes me  _ feel _ . It doesn’t matter what words he uses.” 

 

“Well, it kind of does, Stiles. If he were using the words, I would recommend  a separation and maybe intense counseling for _his_ _abusive_ behavior. Do you understand what I mean?”

 

“No.” Stiles runs frustrated hands through his hair. “Because that doesn’t fix what’s wrong with me!” 

 

“I think what you're experiencing is your projected feelings of yourself. You see Derek's behavior to what  _ you _ perceive as wrong as a reflection of what you're already feeling. So whenever there is an argument about something you're already feeling guilty or insecure about, it's like your mind is saying ‘ _ well there you go and fucked up again and your mate called you out on it _ .’ Does that make sense?”

 

“Kind of?” It’s a lot for him to process. “Yeah, I think so. Like, I was feeling guilty about wanting a baby, so I lied to Derek about it, and when he realised I was lying . . . ” Stiles throws up his hands and lets them fall back on his lap. 

 

“Exactly,” Tracey assures. “You were feeling insecure about wanting another baby so you felt the need to lie. Derek was upset because your lie sort of reinforced your guilt for wanting another baby. Was Derek upset about you wanting another child?”

 

“No.”

 

“May I ask what you're thinking?”

 

Looking down at his lap, Stiles plays with the string of his hoodie. He hasn’t worn this one in a while. It’s a Mets hoodie Derek got him for Christmas a few years ago. “I’m frustrated.” He digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. 

 

“You're frustrated!” Tracey smiles. “Of course you're frustrated. Now tell me what you're  _ thinking _ .”

 

“I’m thinking that I’m fucking annoyed! You’re talking me in circles and I don’t even know what to say!” 

 

“That is not my intentions, Stiles,” Tracey reassures, “my role here is to try to shed some insight into the root of the issues and then help you tackle them. You're insecure about Derek and the life you both have built. You're anxious and depressed because of it. What you're experiencing is more common than you’d think.”

 

“So what are you gonna do? Put me on drugs?” Stiles crosses his arms over his chest and stares at his omegologist. 

 

“Is that what you want?” It's a challenge more than an offer. Tracey wants to help Stiles but it can't be done if he's going to be petulant. 

 

“Of course not.” Stiles sighs again and deflates. “I  _ want _ to stop feeling like such a shitty fucking omega. I don’t feel like the other omegas I’ve met--my life is  _ not _ about being barefoot and pregnant and waiting on my Alpha hand and foot--five children notwithstanding. We really only planned on 4. That’s why I got a degree and I have a job. I want to stop feeling so awful every morning when I wake up.” He feels the tears building in his eyes, the sting in his nose, and he has to look up and blink furiously to keep them at bay.

 

“You do not have to feel like the omega's in fairy tales whose sole purpose in life is to love their alpha and their children. Those are fairy tales. An omega who wants a career is just as common as an omega who wants to be a house-omega. You're not a _ ‘defective _ ’ omega. Do you think Derek is a defective alpha?”

 

Stiles glares. “Do you really want me to answer that question?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Of course not. Because he’s Alpha fucking Charming.” 

 

“Well, if we go by your definition of alpha and omega, he would be defective,” Tracey counters. “If a  _ real _ omega should be barefoot and pregnant, waiting on their alpha hand and foot, then by the same account the alpha should be the aggressive provider who does not allow the omega any freedom the alpha does not choose for them. Is that how you see Derek?”

 

Softly, Stiles says, “No.” 

 

“There you go, Stiles. Have you talked to Derek about all of this?”

 

“I don’t know what to say. Without it turning into a pity party for both of us.” 

 

“What would be so wrong about a ‘pity party’?” 

 

“Because every conversation we try to have about shit like this just ends up in an endless cycle of self-deprecation. When I do finally get Derek to admit that  _ he’s _ made a mistake for once, he treats me like I’m fine china he’ll break if he gets too close.” 

 

“So Derek is insecure as well. How does it make you feel when he treats you as fragile or delicate?”

 

“Awful. It makes me want to cry. He looks at me with this wounded puppy look like he’s responsible for every bad thing that’s ever happened in my life.” 

 

“So you’re not alone in feeling insecure?” 

 

“No, that’s definitely one thing Derek and I can agree on.” 

 

“What do you want to change in your relationship with Derek?”

 

The silence in the room sits heavy between them as Stiles thinks about his answer. “I want to stop lying to Derek. I want him to stop being a human--werewolf--lie detector, but that’s not going to happen. I want him to stop freaking out when  _ I  _ freak out. Just about every lie I’ve told him has been because I’m losing my shit internally.” 

 

“And is he aware of that?” 

 

“Yes. No. Probably not. I don’t know? I think he should be, at any rate.” 

 

“How would he be aware if you have not told him? You just told me he’s also insecure, wouldn’t it make more sense that he blames himself and that’s why  _ he _ freaks out, too?” 

 

“Yeah, I guess.” 

 

“Tell me what else you want from your relationship.”

 

“I want to stop fighting. I want to stop being so fucking emotional. I hate being an omega sometimes. Logically, like with Alexander, I know I’m  _ completely overreacting _ , but I can’t stop myself. My brain is like a runaway train with no brakes. And before I know it, it’s too late.” 

 

“Being emotional has nothing to do with being an omega. I think it’s hard for you to separate omega traits and stereotypes because you did not have omega guidance growing up. I want you to take this book,” Tracey walks towards the library at the far end of the wall and takes a book out of the shelf. “This book is something I found helpful when I was trying to understand my omega biology. I felt like an awful omega because I was not the type to want children or a mate. I understand what it’s like to be out of place.” 

 

Stiles holds his hand out for the book. “ _ Omega is not Subservience _ . A book on omegism?” He looks back up at Tracey. “I mean, I took an omega studies class in college.”

 

Tracey smiles gently. “Who taught your omega studies class?”

 

“Aaron Grant.” Stiles shifts uncomfortably. He doesn’t like to think about that guy. “Do you know him?”

 

“Ah, the notorious Alpha for omega rights,” Tracey gives a derisive snort. “Yes, I know him. He’s a fraud with an agenda. He encourages omega rights so he can mate with more than one omega without him sounding like the worst kind of alpha. Read that book, Stiles. It will give you more insight into omega biology than Aaron Grant can in in his lifetime.”

 

Stiles clutches the book to his chest, feeling like he finally has a lifeline in all of this. “Thanks. For everything. And for listening.”

 

“Come back when you’ve finished the book. And, Stiles,” Tracey says calmly. “Try to be easier on yourself. And trust your alpha. I’ve never seen an alpha so worshipful of his omega.”

 

Stiles has the decency to blush. “Derek is the best.” 

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who is still reading with us!! <3


	5. Beach Retreat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek and Stiles have a weekend alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long on this. I've been busy writing Pinto. *shifty eyes*

"I feel bad about leaving the kids this weekend,” Stiles says, twisting in his seat so he can see Derek properly. “I thought Teddy was going to throw a fit before we left.” They’d agreed that a weekend alone would be good for them, and Stiles’s parents were more than happy to keep the kids. 

Derek reaches his hand out to intertwine with Stiles’. “I'll miss them,” Derek pauses to leave a kiss on Stiles’ palm, “but I'm really glad you suggested some time for  _ us. _ ” Derek had spoken to Jim before their drive to the beach house and Jim had told him some time away with his omega was a good idea. His weekly therapy sessions were going well, Derek felt like he was making progress. 

He still hadn't told Stiles about the alphologist which made Derek feel a little guilty but he promised himself he would when he was ready. For now, he plans to enjoy Stiles for the entire weekend. He looks over at his mate, Stiles has a worried look on his face. “We'll check in on them when we get there,” Derek suggests. “If anything's wrong . . . we could head back.”

“I know.” Stiles flops back into his seat the right way. “I guess I just miss them already.” The last time they left the kids was probably a couple years ago when Stiles had to attend a teacher’s conference in Reno. He and Derek had hardly gotten to see each other for 10 minutes, and it was not a pleasant experience. “I just feel . . . ” He stops himself before he can say the word “guilty.” He and Tracey have been working on that. 

Derek squeezes Stiles’ hand gently, waiting his mate out and offering comfort. Jim has been helping Derek feel less reactionary when it comes to Stiles. To give Stiles a chance to express himself without Derek trying to ‘fix the problem.’ 

“I just feel sad,” Stiles says after a beat. “I’m excited to spend some child-free time with you, though. Three days. Alone. Do you plan on leaving the bed?” Smirking, Stiles lifts Derek’s hand to his mouth and suck on the tip of his first finger. 

Derek smirks and smothers a moan. “You planned on making it to the bed?”

Grinning, Stiles bites down on Derek’s finger and releases it. “I also don’t want you to wreck.” Dutifully, he puts himself back into his seat  _ again _ . “How much farther is it?”

“Not much further,” he answers, making the turn for their house. “Do you remember the first time we came here?”

“Yes,” Stiles says with a smile. “How could I forget? I was pregnant with Conor and I wanted Indian food, and that was the worst decision ever.”

“You were pregnant for the first time,” Derek says longingly, having loved the look of Stiles growing with their child. “You had so many cravings and would flip out if the food you wanted wasn't readily available,” he laughs. “I still remember you throwing your salad at me because I did not get you curly fries.”

Embarrassed at his past actions, Stile ducks his head. “I'd like to think my cravings got less . . . intense with my later pregnancies. You were always there for me, though.” He, too, remembers his first pregnancy. It's hard to imagine them now, without Conor, especially. There's something about the first born. 

“Don't be embarrassed,” Derek says quietly. “I loved every minute of your pregnancy. You're so beautiful, Stiles,” Derek takes his eyes off the road briefly to look at Stiles, “you're always beautiful . . . but when you're pregnant . . .” Derek is at a loss. He can't find words to say what he wants, to convey how he sees Stiles as a mate. As a mother. “You're stunning.”

“You do know the pregnancy ends. With a baby?” Stiles is trying to keep his voice level, but he feels the emotion Derek is feeling. His heart swells with love and affection for his mate. Sometimes, he wishes it was more obvious to the people in their lives. “Why didn't you bite me somewhere people could see it? Sorry, I know that's completely off topic, I was just thinking.”

Derek thinks for a long moment, long enough for Stiles to get fidgety. He kisses Stiles hand to reassure him, of what Derek isn't sure, but it stops Stiles from squirming. “The mating bite is an intimate and private occasion between the alpha and omega. I didn't want the mating bite to look like a symbol of ownership or possession. I didn't want you to carry it on your neck or wrist like a beacon of property. That's not what our bond,  _ our love _ , means. I wanted it in a place that was private between you and me.  _ Just for us _ .”

“I love you so fucking much, Derek Hale.” Stiles wraps one hand around The back of Derek’s neck and squeezes gently. He'd like to kiss him, but that might make them wreck.

Derek slows the car and parks in front of their home. He turns off the engine and turns to look at Stiles. He grabs Stiles’ arm from his neck, kissing Stiles wrist and then his palm. “We're here,” he whispers into the skin, watching goosebumps appear along Stiles’ forearm. 

The noise Stiles makes in reply is somewhere between a groan and a whimper. “Are you going to take me inside or ravish me in the car?”

Derek pulls Stiles into him and captures his lips, kissing him long and hard. He kisses his way down Stiles’ cheek to his ear, sucking on the lobe. “I'm going to fuck you slow, take my time opening your sweet pussy with my cock,” Derek pants. He licks the skin of Stiles neck, sucking a mark on the pale skin. “Then I want you to ride me until you scream from my knot.”

Derek’s words send all the blood in Stiles’s body to his cock. He almost can't formulate a coherent reply. His mind is spinning around the most absurd thoughts like,  _ Shouldn't we unpack the car first? _ but his dick wins out. “You're gonna have to shut the fuck up long enough to get me inside or I'm gonna cream myself.” He punctuates this statement with another kiss hard enough to bruise.

“You have five minutes to get in the house and get ready for me before I'm inside you,” Derek lets his eyes bleed red. Stiles stares at him, panting and flushed. “You better hurry because I will fuck you where I find you.”

With a squeak of surprise, Stiles rips himself out of the car so fast he almost slips on the gravel underfoot, but he manages to right  himself and run to the front door. His hands are shaking so badly that it takes a minute for him to get the key in the lock and turn it. He doesn't bother shutting the door behind him, just lets it slam shut. Derek can deal with it.

Stiles runs up the stairs, flinging his clothes off as he goes. His dick is hard and bouncing against his stomach, and hole is leaking a steady stream of slick. He can feel it gathering between his balls. With a triumphant cry, he throws himself onto the bed on his back and wiggles against the blankets. 

Derek takes a moment to watch Stiles enter the house and then he’s slamming the trunk door shut and carrying their luggage into the house. He smells Stiles’ arousal, thick and heavy in the air, before he gets the door fully opened. Derek walks in, throws their luggage into the living room and stalks the smell of his mate. The wolf howls at the chase and is ready to mount. 

  
Derek loses his clothes as he stalks up the stairs, the smell of Stiles stronger the more he goes into the house. He can see drops of slick on the outside of the bedroom floor and it makes something primal want to shift and lick the floor clean. He slams the door open and he sees Stiles spread out on the bed, naked, dick hard and balls heavy. Derek is naked as well, standing in the door frame, breathing in Stiles smell and priming the wolf for the claiming it desires. 

“Pull your legs up,” he commands, more than ready to shove his cock balls deep in Stiles’ heat.  Derek walks further into the bedroom, standing at the foot of the bed. He can feel his dick throb, and he palms it. “Let me see your pretty little cunt, Stiles.”

“It's all yours, Derek. I'm all yours.” Stiles hooks his hands behind his knees and draws his legs up close to his chest. He knows what he must look like spread out like this, and it makes his hole clench with want. Hearing Derek say such lewd, raunchy things makes Stiles want to fuck  _ now. _ “Come on, don't make me wait.”

“You’re going to take what I give you,” Derek growls as he crawls between Stiles’ spread legs. Stiles’ hole clenches prettily, ready to be spread and stretched. Derek gathers Stiles’ slick and coats the head of his cock as he shuffles forward and lines himself up with Stiles’ opening. He thrusts shallowly, feeling resistance from Stiles’ rim as he adds pressure with each thrust. “Come on, baby,” he growls in Stiles’ ear, “let me in that pretty pink cunt. It’s so hungry for me. Let me in,” he coaxes as he continues to thrust. 

“God, yes,” Stiles’s words turn to groans as he focuses on relaxing himself to let Derek inside. He's wet enough, but if they don't take the time to finger him, he's pretty tight at first. He hooks his ankles together behind Derek's back in an effort to pull him closer. “Fuck me,” Derek,” he sighs, “fuck me.”

“That's it, Stiles,” he sighs as the head of his cock breaches Stiles’ tight opening. It takes effort not to move but he stills, waiting for Stiles’ muscles to relax. “Always so good to be inside you,” Derek praises. 

Stiles practically  _ preens _ at Derek’s words. He shuffles down the bed by inches and tries to tilt his hips  _ up  _ so Derek can inch deeper inside him. And he does, sliding torturously slow until his balls rest hot and heavy against the skin of Stiles’s ass. “Always want you in me,” Stiles sighs.

Derek grinds his hips, trying to push deeper into Stiles’ ass. He feels Stiles’ muscles contract around him, stretched from the girth of Derek’s cock. “I'm going to leave you gaping,” Derek growls into Stiles’ ear, “I want your pretty cunt loose and wet so I can fuck you whenever I want.” Derek punctuates each word with shallow little thrusts. Stiles moans softly and Derek leans down to capture his lips, sliding his hands down his arms to intertwined their hands and lock them against the mattress. 

Derek lifts his head to look into Stiles eyes, they're glazed with arousal and need; it makes Derek thrust a little harder. With his hands holding Stiles’ arms above his head, Derek raises up. “Is your pussy ready for me?”

“Always ready for you.” Stiles turns his head to the side, baring his neck. He knows what his does to Derek, to his wolf. Though he's not in heat, Stiles wants it all. He wants everything. 

Derek’s got him well pinned, but Stiles pretends to struggle anyway. It drives Derek's cock deeper inside of him, and he mewls in appreciation.

Derek pulls out slowly. He stretches just the rim of Stiles’ hole with the thick head of his cock, teasing the nerve endings before he thrusts hard. The gasp and strangled moan Stiles lets out is gratifying and pleases Derek’s wolf. He sets a hard rhythm, thrusting hard, angling his hips to massage at Stiles’ prostate with every thrust of his cock. “I want to hear how much you want this cock,” he mouths against Stiles’ throat. 

Stiles cries out on a particularly good thrust. His mate knows just where to touch him to drive him crazy. “I want you so badly, Der,” he pants. “Give it to me. Give me your cock, baby. Make me scream.”  He’d drag Derek down for a kiss if he had use of his hands. As it is, he clenches and unclenches his hole rhythmically as Derek ruts into him.   

The added pressure of Stiles’ clenching entrance drives Derek to thrust harder, leaning down to suck at Stiles’ collarbone and then nipples. He arches his back to continue thrusting, keeping stiles in place by his hands and his hips, lapping at the hard nub on Stiles chest. 

Stiles is reduced to a writhing mass of whines. “God--Derek--yes--yes like that. Just like that, baby.”

Derek continues to fuck harder, the bang and squeak of the bed is a testament to the relentless fucking Stiles is getting. The squelch of their union is loud and Derek pulls out completely, watching Stiles’ hole contract emptily, a glob of slick and precum leaking from the stretched rim. 

Derek thrusts in without warning and pulls out completely. Watching Stiles’ hole gape, pink and wet and well used. He thrusts in and out, parting Stiles’ cunt with his heavy cock, hearing Stiles scream and moan. Their fucking is hard, harder than they've been able to go since the kids were born. Derek is enjoying every minute of it. 

“Fuck,  _ Stiles _ ,” Derek groans. “Your pussy’s so wet and open for me,” Derek praises. “Do you want to come? Come on my cock?”

“Fuck me--” Stiles tries and fails to recover his words. “Fuck me from behind.” He struggles to sit up, but Derek’s holding him down, and it feels too good to do more than lay there and take it, but he knows how much deeper Derek could fuck him if he was on his face. That's what he wants--for Derek to fuck him deep and knot him until all Stiles knows is his Alpha.

“You want to feel me deep inside your ass, don't you?” Derek growls as he fucks into Stiles’ pliant body. “I'll give it you, baby,” he whispers before sucking a mark against Stiles’ left nipple. “I'm going to make you come like this first. Then I'll fuck you on your knees.”

“Give it to me, Derek.” The words make his dick throb and his balls tighten. He wants to come so badly. His hands clench and relax in desperation. “Make me cum on your dick. You have the best dick.” He tosses his head back on the pillow. “God, your  _ dick _ , Derek.”

Derek lowers his body to rest on Stiles, angles his hips to hit all of Stiles’ good spots. He thrusts hard and fast, causing friction on Stiles’ dick as his hips piston in and out of Stiles’ hole.  “Come, Stiles,” he commands between clenched teeth. He’s so close, Stiles is tighter than usual but he wants Stiles to come first. 

At Derek’s word, Stiles comes hard and fast. Letting Derek hear his pleasure, he cries out. His voice is a jumble of Derek’s name and  _ oh, fuck, yes. _ Buttocks clenching with the effort, he spills over his stomach.

As soon as Stiles comes, Derek flips him on his belly and thrusts forward a dozen more times before he roars his pleasure. He pulls out, coming on Stiles back and ass before thrusting back into Stiles’ opening. “So good,” he whispers against Stiles’ skin before pulling out, checking Stiles’ hole as it leaks their combined essence. His knot throbs, aching to be inside his mate but he holds off. He didn’t prep Stiles enough for knotting and doesn’t want to hurt him.

Derek leans to the side, sucking a mark on the back of Stiles’ neck before his arms give out and he faceplants the bed, his cock nestled between his body and the mattress. His body is satisfied, his knot . . . not so much, but he’ll live, having Stiles’ sated is all that mattered right now and his wolf preens at his prowess. Stiles lays next to him, panting. 

“Are you okay, baby?”

“Mmm,” Stiles murmurs in reply. He's feeling drowsy and so, so satisfied. It feels like it did before they had kids, when they could just lay in bed and fuck all day. “I love you.” He snuggles close to Derek and presses a kiss to his mate’s lips.

Derek kisses Stiles back, a kiss that's full of love and comfort. He turns to his side and pulls Stiles’ to him, an arm over his mate’s chest and a leg over his hips. “Love you more,” Derek whispers in Stiles’ hair before he falls asleep. 

*

The next morning, Stiles wakes early and slips out from under Derek’s arm. For a moment, he's afraid the Alpha is going to stir without Stiles, but he settles and falls back into a deep sleep. Stiles smiles and strokes Derek’s cheek with the back of his hand. 

After pulling on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, Stiles jogs down the stairs on light feet. He starts a pot of coffee, and begins to fry some some bacon. Together with some sliced fruit and a few pieces of toast, Stiles loads up the breakfast and carries it up the stairs.

Derek is still sleeping when Stiles sets the tray on the nightstand. Stiles leans over his Alpha and nuzzles his cheek. “Good morning, my love.”

Derek stirs, the feel of Stiles’ smooth cheek and the smell of breakfast enough to have his eyes open groggily. “Mmmm,” Derek mumbles as he turns his face to capture Stiles’ lips with his own. “You made me breakfast?” Derek asks with a smile; a little surprised Stiles is up earlier than he is. 

Derek sits up slowly, making sure he does not dislodge Stiles from his side. “Thank you, baby,” he kisses Stiles one last time before taking a slice of bacon from the plate. “How about we have breakfast on the balcony?” 

Stiles’s face lights up. He hadn’t thought of that. “Sounds great.”

He takes the tray, and Derek gets the door.

Out here, they can feel the breeze blowing off the ocean and hear the waves crashing against the beach. It's paradise.

“I love you,” Stiles says over the rim of his coffee mug.

Derek smiles into his coffee cup, enjoying the smell of the ocean and mate, and overall happiness. “Love you more,” Derek says around a bite of bacon. “We should go to the beach after breakfast. I don’t think we’ve ever enjoyed this place. Just the two of us.”

“We haven't,” Stiles says. He wants to squirm like a puppy at just the prospect of enjoying this time completely with Derek. “And I need some sun.” He frowns at his pale, freckled arms. 

Derek frowns at Stiles’ derisive tone and look. “You’re beautiful. I love how creamy your skin is,” Derek’s wolf rumbles with pleasure. “Your moles stand out all the more. Stunning,” he finishes with a wink, smug to find a blush on Stiles’ cheeks. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Stiles gestures with his fork. “You're the one with the body of a model. I'm just the Omega mom. Those other moms at school all judge me for my pale skin. Let me tell you.” 

“Fuck them,” Derek says angrily, annoyed that others are making Stiles feel insecure. “Your body, Stiles. Fuck . . .” Derek takes his time thinking about what to say so Stiles understand how handsome he is and how much Derek is in awe of him every day. “Your body has carried our children,” Derek starts. “Your body is amazing, and I love to feel and taste every inch of your skin. The way you open for me, babe . . .” Derek knows he has a faraway look on him, remembering the night before and how good Stiles was for him. 

Derek stands up, takes the few steps to Stiles’ side and grabs his face. He looks into Stiles eyes before he leans forward and kisses him hard. A kiss full of love and passion, Derek sucks Stiles’ lip before he pulls away. “You’re handsome.” He kisses Stiles cheek. “You’re beautiful.” He kisses Stiles’ ear. “You’re the only one I ever want,” he breathes into Stiles’ skin before leaving a mark on his creamy neck. “So, when you finish your breakfast, you put on your swimming trunks and get your gorgeous ass to that beach,” he growls before he pulls away to sit back and finish his breakfast. All the while never leaving his eyes off of his mate’s face. 

“Are you going naked, or am I the only one who has to be clothed?” Stiles smirks. He enjoys challenging his Alpha. Going naked would be nice, but for the other beach goers.

Derek raises an eyebrow at his mate, smirks before he gets up and walks towards the door. “Do you really want me to go to the beach like this?” he asks in a challenge. Nudity has never been an issue for him, being a born wolf in a house full of other wolves modesty is not something that exists. 

Stiles shrugs one shoulder. “You can go naked if I can. I mean, there might be other Alphas out there . . . ” Knowing it’s a tease, he follows Derek back into the house and strips off right there in the kitchen. 

Derek runs after Stiles and backs him into the far wall of the kitchen, crowding him in and pressing his body to Stiles’ back, ass, and legs. “You're  _ mine _ ,” he mouths against Stiles’ back, leaving a scattering of hickeys across his neck and shoulder. 

“My ass,” he murmurs onto Stiles’ back as he gropes Stiles’ butt cheeks. “Mine, mine, mine,” he says with one last lick on Stiles’ neck before he takes a step back. He spanks Stiles’ ass before he runs back to their bedroom as he shouts, “last one out there _with clothes_ _on_ doesn't come until this evening!” 

“What?” Stiles’s head spins from the frantic attention. In a whirlwind, Derek is there and then he's gone. “With clothes on?” he says to himself.  _ Oh  _ with  _ clothes on.  _ Regrouping his brain as fast as he can, Stiles tears off in the direction of his mate, tripping over his sleep clothes before righting himself as fast as he can. 

Skidding into the bedroom, he misjudges the distance and runs the corner of his hips directly into the edge of the dresser. “Ahh, fuck!” he shouts, limping across the room towards his suitcase.

Derek hides  behind the door and watches Stiles frantically put on his swim trunks before he jumps out, startling his mate. Stiles shrieks before he trips over the suitcase and Derek swoops in and grabs him before he can do any damage. Derek lifts Stiles onto his shoulder, fireman style, and pulls the trunks over his pert ass. “You okay, baby?” He asks as he massages the hip Stiles hurt in the dresser, pulling the light sting with his alpha power.

“I'll probably have a mark in the morning,” Stiles grumbles.

“I can promise you, you’ll have an array of marks in the morning,” Derek says smugly. He makes his way towards the kitchen, carefully going down the stairs as to not drop the omega currently hanging over his shoulder. 

It's hard for Stiles to see exactly where they're going in this position, but he can tell by the sand under Derek’s feet that they're getting closer to the ocean. The roar of the waves grows louder.

“Derek, don’t you dare drop me in the ocean.  _ Derek _ .” His tone because more warning and desperate as Derek walks into the water with Stiles still over his shoulder. He clings to Derek’s body, trying to climb him like a cat up a tree. 

The water is up to Derek’s waist now, and Stiles’s toes keep dipping in it. He bends his knees to keep himself out of the chilly water. “Derek, don't you dare. Derek!”

Derek continues to laugh quietly as his mate wriggles around his shoulders making Derek's hold on his precarious at best. “Afraid of a little water?” He asks teasingly, making his way deeper into the rolling waves. 

Derek sees a particularly large wave make its way towards them and he jumps to dislodge Stiles as his mate falls into the wave. He watches Stiles sputter as he breaches the water and stands next to Derek, a hard glare as he watches Derek laughing harder than he has in a long time. 

“You're going to pay for that, buddy.” Stiles jumps up and wraps himself around Derek’s body like a limpet, but moving Derek is like moving a brick wall. He only ends up dislodging himself and falling back into than water. Derek is still laughing as he stands up and attempts to fight against the waves. 

Derek makes his way to Stiles’ grabbing him by the waist and kissing him soundly. “Ready to fly, baby?” He grins mischievously.

“Derek,” Stiles growls. “Don’t you dare. I’m warning you.” He plants his feet as firmly as he can against the waves crashing into his body. 

Derek winds his arms around his mate, leaning forward to nuzzle against his cheek. “You don't want to swim with me?”

“Swim with you, yes. Get thrown into the waves? Not so much.” Attuned to his mate’s movements, he watches Derek from the corner of his eye. 

“Not having fun?” Derek leans back a little to try to gauge Stiles’ mood. He doesn't want to take his playful behavior too far. He hasn't felt this giddy in years. 

Stiles shrugs his shoulders and ducks under the water. He can’t see where he’s going, so he has to trust that Derek hasn’t moved. His mate isn’t going to be expecting this, so Stiles smiles inwardly as he kicks out with a foot and nails Derek directly in the back of one knee. He can feel his Alpha’s leg fold. Triumphant, he stands upright in the waves and laughs as his mate crashes into the water. 

Derek falls into the wave when he feels his legs give out under him. He resurfaces to sputter ocean water out of his mouth and smiles at his mate. “You asked for it,” he laughs as he swims towards Stiles, ready to play with his mate. 

Shrieking in delight, Stiles rushes to swim away from his Alpha, even though he knows he won’t be a fast enough swimmer. 

He gives Stiles’ a head start, knowing his human mate isn't as fast as his wolf genes. He can hear the joy in Stiles’ laugh and he doesn't think it's something he's heard in a long time. They've never been this playful, never had the time to have romance. There are so many regrets Derek has for the way this relationship with Stiles started, but he vows to show Stiles every day how much he means to him. Romance him like he deserved when he was a teenager. 

The flush of joy and the smell of happiness overpowers the smell of the ocean, and as Stiles runs from him, he can feel his wolf perk up. The need to claim prominent but he pushes it down, ready to play for much longer. 

Stiles works his way in a zigzag pattern as he jumps over the waves. He doesn’t want to get too far out, and he also wants to keep playing this game in the water. Besides, Derek is bound to catch him sooner rather than later. 

As Stiles weaves his way through the water, Derek takes his time stalking his omega. Growling playfully when stiles is just out of reach. He grabs Stiles’ ankle and shouts in victory but his mate is clever and slips easily from his hold.  

Heart racing, Stiles kicks out in an attempt to swim faster. He can feel Derek behind him, and it’s only a matter of time before he’s caught. 

Derek gets close enough to wrap his arm around Stiles’ waist, and pulls him into Derek’s body. Stiles’ laughter is absolutely beautiful and Derek pecks a chaste kiss on Stiles lips. “Got you,” he murmurs against Stiles. 

Stiles laughs against Derek’s mouth. He hasn't felt this light in ages. “Yes, you do.” 

Derek smiles sweetly at his mate, holding him close as wave after wave crash against them. They’re breathing heavily, exhausted from the chase but he knows they’re both smiling, more happy and content than they’ve been in a long time. Derek feels overwhelmed with his feelings towards Stiles, he raises a hand to caress Stiles’ cheek, rubbing smooth circles against Stiles’ jaw. “I love you so much, Stiles,” he confesses. “Thank you for giving me a chance.”

“You?” Stiles smiles. He can remember the first time he ever talked to Derek--he was so intimidating and broody, but all Stiles wanted was to kiss him. He never could have imagined they'd be here a decade later. “How about me? I was just this scrawny teenager who happened to catch your eye. By all rights, I should be the one thanking you.”

Derek pulls Stiles closer, holding him and leaning to scent his throat as they jump through the waves. “Mmm,” Derek hums against Stiles’ throat. “It really pissed me off that I wanted you so much. It made me hard to roughen you up a little when I couldn't touch you like I wanted,” he nibbles on Stiles’ skin. 

“Well, now you can,” Stiles says. He closes his eyes and lifts his chin to bare his neck to Derek. He knows exactly what the gesture does to his mate. This time is just for them, and Stiles intends to use it.

Derek rumbles in pleasure and continues to lick his way up Stiles’ neck. His hips grind against Stiles and he can feel the answering bulge. He slides his hands inside Stiles’ swimming trunks to grope at Stiles’ ass. “Maybe we should go inside,” he whispers against Stiles’ jaw while his fingers dip in the crease of his mate’s ass. 

“You don't want to fuck me in the ocean?” Stiles whispers, knowing Derek will hear him over the sound of the waves. He wraps one leg around Derek’s hip. His dick is chubbing up, and he can feel slick beginning to disgorge from his hole. 

“You want people to hear you scream?” Derek growls as he pushes Stiles’ trunks under his ass, and presses a finger to Stiles’ entrance. 

Stiles squirms and whimpers in Derek’s hold. He tries to get that finger inside him to no avail. Derek, it seems, is content to tease him. “There's no one around to hear me.” Stiles fixes his mouth on the sensitive skin of Derek’s neck. “How loud can you make me scream?”

Derek rubs circles around Stiles’ furled opening. He feels it clench and feels slick smooth the teasing motions. “Wrap your legs around my waist, baby,” Derek whispers in Stiles’ ear as he adds more pressure to Stiles’ hole. “I'll show you how loud you can be when I have my cock inside you.”

Stiles springs up on the leg he's still standing on and wraps it around Derek’s waist. If it wasn't for his Alpha strength, Stiles probably would have lost his balance and fallen. Safely ensconced in Derek’s arms, Stiles rubs his erection against Derek’s flat belly. 

“Take my cock out,” he commands. He pushes a finger deep inside Stiles, twisting his hand to stimulate his mate’s nerve endings before he adds another. He fucks Stiles with his fingers, twisting, stroking, scissoring them inside Stiles’ tight ass as he sucks on Stiles’ shoulder. “Come on, baby. Stroke my cock and put it inside your sweet little hole.”

“God, fuck, Derek.” Stiles tosses his head back. It feels so good he doesn't want want to stop. He reaches down between their bodies and takes ahold of Derek’s cock. He rubs against his hole and moans at the feeling. Derek helps him to push it inside, and Stiles cries out in pleasure. “Come on, Der,” he says, “fuck me.”

Derek does as Stiles says. He uses the sway and rocking of the waves to build a rhythm, it's hard to find purchase when there isn't a surface to balance against. But he works with it, bouncing Stiles and rocking into him. He's close already; the chase and the playful nature of their encounter enough to put him on edge. “ _ Shit _ , I'm going to come, Stiles.” And he does, groaning out his pleasure. 

“God,  _ yes _ .” Stiles comes a moment later, shivering and trembling in Derek’s arms. He lets out a shriek of laughter as they fall to the surf together. The waves crash around them, but all Stiles cares for is the scent, the feeling of his alpha above him, around him.

Derek is still holding onto Stiles, and is able to stay grounded as the waves crash into them harder. “Let's go clean up and walk down the boardwalk to find lunch. What do you think?”

Stiles groans in reply and rubs his face into Derek’s shoulder. “Does lunch involve something delicious and fried and perhaps a ride on the Ferris wheel?” 

Derek hasn't had carnival food -read funnel cake- in years. “We can hit the boardwalk and eat something as we walk around.” The thought of spending the day at the boardwalk makes Derek smile, especially because he'll be with stiles. 

“First,” Stiles plants a smacking kiss on Derek’s mouth, “I need a shower. Though I could handle a mutual(?) shower. Saves water that way.” He rolls onto his back and allows the waves to crash over his body. “I've probably got sand in my asshole.”

Derek laughs before he's able to stop himself. “I think I'm going to go for a run while you shower.” He watches Stiles from the corner of his eye and a smile blooms on his face. “That should give you enough time to clean yourself out.” He can't help but laugh at the glare he gets and starts making his way to their cottage. 

“Isn't that your job?” Stiles calls after him. “Derek Hale, get back here and pamper my butthole!” 

Jogging up the few stairs to the back deck, Stiles follows Derek into the house. He strips off his wet trunks and hangs them over the edge of the wash tub in the laundry room. 

Derek is upstairs changing into his running shorts when Stiles arrives naked in the bedroom. “You sure you don't want a shower?”

Derek smiles and makes his way to Stiles. He kisses his cheek before he's heading to the door. “If I'm going to eat  _ fried deliciousness, _ I need to run. Be back in a bit.” 

Derek makes his way down the stairs to the deck where he stretches, feeling his muscles pull and relax as he goes through the motions of preparing his body for a long run. He hasn't felt this free in a long time, and it's been an even longer time since he ran on the sand. He sets up his playlist and makes his way down the steps and runs. 

Knowing Derek will be gone for a while, Stiles takes his time heating the shower up until the bathroom is steamy. He considers his face in the mirror for a moment; he should probably shave, but he doesn't feel like it. Probably, he can go another day or two before his patchy beard gets too bad. Stepping into the shower, Stiles sighs at the feeling of the hot water on his skin. He shampoos his hair, soaps his body. He pays special attention to his ass--he certainly doesn't want any sand in his hole. 

When he's done, Stiles dresses in loose cargo shorts and a  _ Beacon Hills Elementary  _ t-shirt. He snags his sunglasses and jogs downstairs.

“What am I supposed to do while you shower, Derek?” he wonders aloud. Derek has only been gone about 15 minutes. Chances are he'll be out for another 45.

By the time Derek runs back home, he can feel how tired his muscles are and his sweat cascades down his back. He walks in and finds Stiles flipping through channels in the living room. He doesn't look happy and Derek realizes his run went longer than he expected. “I'll shower and get ready fast. Do you know what you want?” he asks to get Stiles talking.  

Stiles cranes his neck over the back of the couch. "Besides knowing who the father is?" He gestures with the remote at the television. “Funnel cake would be good. Maybe a burger. Or a corn dog. Really, all of the above. And deep fried Oreos.”

“Okay!” Derek yells from the bathroom. He showers quickly, making sure to rinse off the sand that clung to him. He's out of the bathroom and putting on shorts and a wife beater and  makes it back down before the episode Stiles settled on is over. 

“Was he the father?” he asks over Stiles’ head. 

“Nah. The omega started crying and said he might have 3 other alphas he'd like to bring back in another episode.” He turns the television off. “And that's what gives omegas a bad name. Are you ready?”

“Yup.”

Derek opens the door and allows Stiles to go out first before he locks it behind them. He grabs Stiles’ hand to entwine their fingers together and they make their way to the boardwalk. The smell of fried food strong in the air. Stiles chatters on, pointing out new places they hadn't seen the last time they were here. Derek is content to listen, and to bask in the energy that Stiles has. 

“Where to first?”

“Funnel cake,” Stiles says decisively. It's been a long time since he's had one. Derek eats like two bites and says he's finished. Frowning, Stiles polishes it off himself and tosses the empty paper plate in the trash. 

“How are you feeling about deep fried Oreos?”

Derek makes a face before he composed himself. “Whatever you want.” They make their way down the food tents, Stiles trying something from every stand. “Are you sure you want to eat that?” Derek asks skeptically, eyeing the fried pickle and corn dog concoction. 

Derek learned early on not to get in the way of Stiles and food; not when he's hungry and most definitely not when he's pregnant. Stiles eyes him as he sticks both items in his mouth, moaning like he only ever reserves for sex. It makes Derek kind of sick, and the irony is not lost on him. As a werewolf he can't get sick but the smell of fried dough and watching the bottomless pit that is his mate makes Derek sympathize with Stiles’ digestive system. 

Stiles lets out a loud belch and pats his stomach with approval. "Time for the Tilt-a-Whirl, I think? Then we can go on the ferris wheel.”

“Are you  _ sure _ you want to get on that after scarfing down half the boardwalk?” he asks warily. Derek knows this won't end well for both of them but he's willing to give stiles the benefit of the doubt. 

Stiles makes a face. “I'll be fine. Scott and I used to do this all the time when we were kids. I've got an iron stomach.” He raises an eyebrow. “If anything, it's you I should be worried about.” 

Laughing, he grabs Derek’s hand and tugs him towards the ticket booth. It costs a ridiculous amount of money to ride any of the rides, but they can afford it. They climb into one of the cars on the Tilt-a-Whirl and the ride begins.

By the time the ride is over, Derek is glad to be back on his feet. He's never understood the appeal of rides that make humans sick but Stiles seems to be having a blast so Derek pushes on. He gets on ride after ride, and he listens to Stiles scream and laugh through each one. His mate’s enthusiasm is infectious and Derek catches himself  _ whoo _ ing along with Stiles. 

Their last ride was the haunted mansion where both Derek and Stiles laugh at the cheesy werewolf display. When the ride is over, the sun is setting and people are starting to make their way to watch the sunset on the beach. “We should get on the Ferris wheel now. We’ll probably get a nice view of the sunset.”

“Absolutely.” Stiles forces a smile even though he’s starting to feel a little nauseous. They give the attendant the last of their tickets and climb into the gondola. Stiles cuddles close to Derek as the alpha wraps his arm around his shoulder. The nauseous feeling hasn’t gone away, and Stiles is starting to feel that awful “saliva flooding his mouth” precursor to vomiting. Hoping the scent of his alpha will settle him, he closes his eyes and pushes his face into Derek’s chest. 

Derek pulls Stiles closer, his mate cuddling into him as the ride starts to ascend. The sky is beautiful. “Look at all the colors, babe,” he urges Stiles to look. Stiles has his face buried in his chest, eyes closed tight. “Stiles?”

Clutching Derek’s shirt tightly, Stiles forces himself to open his eyes. The gondola lurches, and the spinning lights and the rocking of the ride are suddenly too much for him. He opens his mouth to apologize and all that comes out is an arching spray of every godawful thing he’d eaten that day--all over himself and Derek and the seat, and some of it even makes its way over the side of the gondola. It’s like his stomach is just pulling the plug on every single thing he put into his mouth. It constricts like a vice, and he manages to throw his upper body over the side as another wave hits him. He coughs and chokes and gags until he’s sure it’s the last of it. Derek’s hands clutch his waist to make sure he isn’t going to fall, and Stiles can’t even muster a thank you. Tears leak from his eyes, as happens when he pukes. 

Miserable and mindful that he’s covered himself and everything around him in vomit, he settles back into his seat. “Fuck,” he sighs. 

Derek runs Stiles’ back, trying to soothe the nausea and hoping it doesn't happen again. He's covered in vomit and his werewolf sense are being abused by the sickening smell of Stiles’ regurgitated food. “Better?”

“I’m so sorry,” Stiles whimpers pathetically. 

“What's a romantic weekend without a little vomit,” Derek tries to joke. “I'll make you ginger tea when he go back home. Okay?” He continues to rub Stiles’ back; it's really the only safe area to touch as both of their fronts are covered in gunk.

Stiles grunts in reply. They finish the ride in silence, and the attendant makes a face of disgust as they exit the vomit-crusted gondola. Stiles can’t bring himself to care. With Derek’s help, he limps off the ride and they head back to the cottage. 

As soon as they walk into the house, Stiles strips off in the laundry room, but the gesture is much less exciting than it was earlier that day. “Ugh, I’ve got it in my hair,” he groans. His stomach seems to have settled, but he doesn’t even want to  _ smell _ fried food right now. 

“Go up to the shower, I'll rinse off outside and have your tea up by the time you're done.” Derek would like his chance at a shower but he can smell how miserable Stiles is. “Do you want anything else before I rinse this off?”

“Just my dignity,” Stiles mutters. None of their kids have ever puked in public . . . yet. But there was that one incident with Teddy and his diaper, but he was 2. Stiles is an adult who can’t seem to act like it. Grimacing, he makes his way up the stairs and into the shower for the second time that day. 

Derek hoses himself down, removing each article of clothing before wrapping himself in a towel. He needs a shower but he'll take care of Stiles first. He heads into the kitchen and sets the kettle to boil as he looks through the cupboards. He finds ginger tea  and a pack of crackers and sets it on the counter as he waits for the kettle to boil. He listens to Stiles move around in their bedroom, mumbling too faintly for Derek to make out the words. 

Once the water boils, he makes the tea and brings it to the room, setting the cup and plate of crackers on the bedside table. “I'm going to shower,” he tells Stiles as he drops the towel at the foot of the bed and walks into the bathroom. 

With a sigh, Stiles climbs into bed and pulls the blankets up over himself. He can hear Derek in the shower. The steaming tea next to him smells good, and he lifts it to his mouth, takes a sip. He sets the cup back on the nightstand and reaches for the television remote instead. There isn’t much on, but Stiles is just looking for something to occupy himself until Derek gets out of the shower. 

Derek takes his time in the shower. Enjoying the heat pounding on his shoulder muscles and helping him relax. He hadn't realized how tense he was after Stiles exploded all over them. He makes sure to rinse off a couple of times to make sure to take the smell of vomit off of him. When he deems himself ready, he turns off the water and dries himself off. He needs to trim his beard soon but he's too tired to even start now.

Derek wraps the towel around his hips and walks back in the room. Stiles is curled in on himself, watching TV. “How are you feeling?” Derek asks as he goes to their bags to find some sweats. 

“Like I ate an entire carnival and threw it up on you.” He lifts his head so that Derek can slide his thigh under it and makes himself comfortable again. “You’re not going to believe this, but I’m not as young as I used to be.” 

Derek rolls his eyes as he plays with the strands of Stiles’ hair. “I'm shocked.”

“You sure you want another baby? You’re 30. Maybe we’re too old to be chasing little ones around. The twins will be in elementary school soon.” 

Derek gives Stiles a droll look. “I'm good without another baby.  _ Not _ because I'm  _ old _ ,” he bites out sarcastically. “But if you're not up for it. . .” Derek shrugs. 

“I’m just thinking out loud.” Stiles blows out a breath. “I don’t know.” He rubs his face against Derek’s thigh. “Do you want to watch a movie?” 

“I love our kids. We have a big enough family. Maybe I should get an alpha-ectomy . . .” Derek settles more comfortably against the headboard, being careful not to jostle Stiles too much. “We can probably stream something on demand.”

“I wouldn’t go that far. Maybe we should just . . . see how things go. Maybe during my next heat, I won’t take my birth control. And . . . If I get pregnant, then so be it. What about The Vow? We haven’t watched that in a while.” 

“Sure,” Derek doesn't care what they watch. The idea of Stiles being pregnant again, Derek thought would be excited but having it be a possibility so soon makes something unsettled within him. “If you don't get pregnant . . . maybe we should talk more seriously about the alpha-ectomy?”

Stiles presses the button to start the film. “Maybe. Give it one more try?” He smirks at his own joke. 

  
  
  



	6. Breakthrough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Derek have some much-needed conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This should have been posted like a week ago. *winces* Sincere apologies, folks, I've been super busy.

Planning a wedding turns out to be the worst idea Stiles has ever had. Not only is he buried in a mess of invitations and fabric swatches and the longest to-do list he’s ever seen, but he can also feel their bank account crying, despite Derek’s reassurance that they can afford this. 

“What kind of  _ font _ do I want? Who fucking cares? Slap some scripty thing on it and call it a day.” Frustrated, Stiles throws his phone down on the table. A stack of invitation options scatters across the tabletop. “Yeah, and fuck you, too.”

“Mom?” Conor says. He’s laying on a blanket Stiles spread out next to the kitchen table building something out of K’NEX pieces. 

Sighing, Stiles looks over at him. “Yeah?” Conor has been perfectly quiet this whole time, and Stiles winces inwardly at the harshness of his tone. 

“Why is Saturn the only planet with rings?” 

“I don’t f--I don’t know, Conor. Go ask your father.”  

Conor narrows his eyes at his mother, not quite a glare but close enough. He begins to gather his things before he stands up. “Dad isn't home yet.”

Conor walks back into the living room without a backwards glance. He sits on the couch with Remy and waits for his dad to get home. His mom has been crabby ever since they came back from their vacation. He thought vacations were supposed to make grown ups more relaxed. 

Derek walks into his house and hears Stiles muttering in the kitchen and his children watching TV in the living room. It's been the same for the past couple of weeks: Stiles grumpy and his children avoiding their mother. 

“Hey guys,” Derek greets from the foyer. The twins run to him while Conor just looks at him sadly. He picks up his toddlers and blows raspberries on their tummies before he sets them down. He ruffles Conor’s hair before he kisses his head. “What's up, Con?”

Conor shrugs his shoulders and looks pointedly to the kitchen. “Mom won't help me with my homework.”

Derek frowns. “He'll help you in a bit, okay?”

Derek leaves Conor and the kids watching TV as he makes his way toward the kitchen. Stiles is glaring at his phone, surrounded by stacks of paper and strips of fabric. 

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to decide if we should use Pinyon or Pinyon  _ light  _ for our invitations.” Exasperated, Stiles stabs his thumbs at his phone before throwing it down again. He gives Derek a cross look. “Where have you been?”

“Work,” Derek answers quickly. He moves around the table to stand behind Stiles. He massages Stiles’ shoulders, trying to ease the tension. 

“This is driving you crazy. You said you didn't care if we got married. Why bother?”

“Because I care now.” Making a noise of disgust, Stiles pushes back from the table. “I don't want anyone to show up at the wedding and judge us because our . . . Invitations were wrong. I sound ridiculous, don't I?” Stiles runs a hand through his hair, making it stand on end even more than it already is.

Only Derek's werewolf reflexes saves his feet from being crushed by Stiles’ abrupt movements. He watches Stiles stress and pace back and forth. “We can do city hall?” He suggests. “I don't understand why you're stressing. You didn't really care--”

“Derek!” Stiles pulls his hands out of his hair so roughly it feels like he takes a couple chunks. “We cannot host all of our friends and family for our wedding at  _ city hall _ !” Closing his eyes, he takes three, steady deep breaths.

“But you're stressing out, Stiles. And you're snapping at the kids,” Derek says the last bit as gently as he can. “I don't care about a party. I just want to marry you. Share our last names with each other.”

“I'm not.” A wave of anger rushes over him and he has to take another breath. “Okay, I am.” He fixes his gaze on Derek. “Can we afford to hire a wedding planner?”

Derek smiles fondly at Stiles. He will never understand how Stiles can be so oblivious to how much money they have. He's the sole survivor of the Hale pack and the gym has been doing well since he opened it. “We can afford a couple wedding planners if that's what you want. But, Stiles, what's this about? A couple of months ago you didn't care if we were married or not. Is this about Isaac?” Derek finally asks the question that has been plaguing him since Stiles woke up one morning and decided to plan their wedding. Stiles has even started wearing his ring. 

“No, of course not.” Stiles fidgets, bites his thumbnail. “Maybe yes. A little bit?” So what if Isaac is marrying Scott and Allison. Maybe he wants a big wedding after all, too. It's not like they can't afford it.

“Come here,” Derek says gently, opening his arms for Stiles. 

Stiles shuffles into the circle of Derek’s arms and rests his chin on his mate’s shoulder. “I need to apologise to Conor. I snapped at him earlier.”

“That's why he seemed upset when I came in,” Derek mumbles against Stiles’ hair. He caresses Stiles’ back, trying to coax Stiles’ stress away. “How about you help him with his homework while I get the kids to bed and I'll run you a bath?” 

“Deal.” Stiles pecks a kiss on Derek’s mouth before pulling away.

Stiles finds Conor in his bedroom. He's working at his desk looking so much like an adult that Stiles’s heart clenches for a moment. Stepping into the room, Stiles tapped his knuckles against the door.

Conor’s head snaps up, and his face falls when he sees who it is.

Stiles’s heart drops. “Conor,” he starts. “Can I come in?”

“I guess.” Conor shrugs one shoulder and looks back down at his desk.

Walking into the room, Stiles takes a seat on the twin bed. He has a visceral memory of laying Conor down in his crib as a baby. How his baby became this little boy in front of him seems like something unbelievable. 

“Conor, I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier. I was stressed out, and it wasn't fair that I took it out on you.”

At his desk, Conor’s pencil stops, but he doesn't look at Stiles. 

“Are you mad at me?”

When he speaks, Conor’s voice is shaky. “No.”

But Stiles doesn't have to be a werewolf to hear the lie in his voice. He gets up and walks across the room. Conor’s shoulders are stiff as Stiles wraps his arms around them. 

“Monster, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. I was just wrapped up in what I was doing.”

“Okay,” Conor says in a small voice.

“Do you still love me?”

“Mooom,” Conor groans like Stiles has just asked the stupidest question. 

“Well, do you?”

“Yeah.”

Stiles smacks a loud kiss on his son’s cheek. 

*

Derek gets the kids cleaned and ready for bed while Stiles and Conor talk. He can hear their conversation but busies himself with his task so he won't eavesdrop on their mother-son moment. When Teddy finally falls asleep, Derek is able to go to his room and start drawing Stiles’s bath.

He'd had a long day at the gym and then he's gone to Jim’s for their weekly session. Derek felt like things were going well and Jim warned him that progress would be slow. He'd dealt with years of abuse and trauma. So some weeks their sessions are good and others their sessions are exhausting. 

Derek hadn't told Stiles’ yet and he was running out of excuses for being home so late but he didn't feel ready yet. Their relationship is going so well. They fight less and talk more. Derek doesn't feel the need to dominate and take over when Stiles is flustered, and instead lets Stiles take a minute to get himself in order. 

As the water rises, Derek picks out Stiles’ favorite bath bomb. It's Derek’s favorite too because it doesn't overwhelm his werewolf senses. 

While the tub is filling, Derek gets up to adjust the thermostat and dim the lights to help Stiles relax. Satisfied, he walks back into the bedroom to change into his lounge pants before walking back to their bathroom. He sits at the edge of the tub, checking the water when he hears Stiles come in. 

Stiles sheds his clothes with a sigh. After helping Conor finish his homework, he'd tucked him into bed with a copy of  _ The Hobbit _ . He's a voracious reader, even at his age. 

Naked, Stiles finds Derek in the bathroom with a full bath, and he can smell his favourite bath bomb.

“You are the best.” 

“Get in before you get too cold,” Derek reaches a hand out to help Stiles into the tub.

With Derek’s help, Stiles lowers himself into the tub. He sighs softly and leans his head against the back wall. “Why aren’t you getting in?” 

Derek shrugs a shoulder as he sits on the edge. “Showered at the gym.” He watches Stiles settle in. “How's Conor?”

Stiles shrugs off his instant anxiety that Derek doesn't want to bathe with  _ him _ . That's ridiculous. He usually always showers at the gym, and the fact that he's showered doesn't preclude sex tonight. Stiles blows out a breath. “Better. I think, anyway. I apologised, and we hugged it out. I'm not trying to be so intense about this whole wedding thing, but it's a big deal, you know?”

“Yeah, babe. You can let me help you . . .” Derek trails off, distracted by the suds falling down Stiles’ creamy shoulder. His hand reaches for the suds and trails a line on Stiles’ shoulder. 

Derek hears Stiles’ breath catch and he smiles at his mate. “We could also hire a wedding planner.”

Wrapping his hand around Derek’s hip, Stiles tugs him closer and noses against the crotch of Derek’s sweats. “I want to blow you.” He looks up at Derek as he mouths the growing outline of his mate’s cock.

Derek can feel his cock harden and lets Stiles mouth run along the seam of his pants. It feels amazing and he lets his eyes close to bask in the pleasure. Not soon after he gets a flash of his conversation with Jim, and it brings back things he'd rather forget. 

He can feel himself lose his arousal and he looks down at his mate, face flushed and moaning with the pleasure he's trying to give Derek. He caresses Stiles’ head, his cheek. “Baby,” he whispers brokenly. 

“Mmhmm,” Stiles replies. The water sloshes against the tub as he turns towards Derek more fully. He reaches up to loosen Derek’s sweats with one wet hand.

“I'm sorry,” he grabs Stiles’ hand to stop his actions. He feels awful when Stiles looks up at him, confusion clear on his face. He's never turned down sex with Stiles but he can't get images of the fire or Kate out of his mind. “Not tonight, okay?”

A cold feeling surges through Stiles’s body. Is this because of what happened with Conor? Is it something Stiles did? He wracks his brain, but can't come up with anything. “Oh.” His hand slides back into the heat of the water, but it's not a positive feeling. He slides his body lower so that his chest is underwater and his knees are poking out. “Did I . . . say something?”

“It's not you. I promise.” Derek wants to tell Stiles about Jim. About the months of therapy he's had and how it's going, but Stiles has been so stressed with the wedding, Derek doesn't want to add another thing for him to stress about. “Look at me,” he says gently. He doesn't want Stiles to feel unwanted or unloved, or that he did something and Derek is rejecting him for it. Stiles has been so loving despite his cranky mood lately. 

Stiles looks at him, and Derek can see the weariness in his eyes. “It's been an awfully long day at work and I don't want to disappoint you. I'll make it up to you, okay?”

Stiles’s response is a sigh. What is he supposed to say to that? Derek  _ is _ disappointing him. “Yeah, okay.” He reaches for the bottle of shampoo. At this point, he's not sure why Derek stayed to watch him bathe if he didn't want to have sex.

“Don't be mad,” Derek says quietly, feeling disgusted with himself and like less than an alpha for not pleasing his mate. 

Stiles squirts a dollop of shampoo into his hand. At this point, he wishes Derek would just leave him to finish his bath alone. “I'm not mad. I just don't understand.”

“I . . .” Derek tries to get the words out but he's afraid Stiles is going to think less of him, but the look on Stiles face is what makes Derek say it. “I've been seeing someone.”

The words hammer home like four nails in Stiles’s heart.  _ I've been seeing someone _ . Never mind their five children or the nine years they've spent together. 

His moves are robotic as he gets out of the tub and pushes Derek out of the way. He doesn't pay any attention to the shampoo still in his hair. All he knows is that he's got to do something. 

He wraps a towel around his waist hastily and stomps into the bedroom. Blindly, he grabs the nearest bag--an old duffel from high school--jerks open the top drawer of Derek’s dresser, and begins throwing socks and underwear into it. 

“What are you doing?” Derek asks confused. He knew telling Stiles about Jim was a mistake because he wouldn't be seen as a good alpha. He'd started seeing the alphologist to make their marriage better. To help Derek be a better mate. 

Stiles jerks open the second drawer and adds t-shirts to the pile. “I want you out,” he growls. “I can't believe--”

“What? Babe, I knew you weren't going to be happy but--”

“BE HAPPY?” Stiles explodes. “While you're out fucking around on me? On the kids?” He's too angry to cry. 

“ _ What _ ?! Stiles, no. I've been seeing an alphologist! What were you thinking?”

All the fight bleeds out of Stiles. With one of Derek’s shirts clutched in his hands, he slumps to the floor. “You said . . . You've been seeing someone.”

Derek gathers Stiles from the floor and carries him to the bathroom. “Yeah. An  _ alphologist _ . How could I ever cheat on you, Stiles? I fucking love you. You walked out before I could explain.” 

“Asshole.” Stiles smacks at Derek’s chest as he's lowered back into the bathtub. “You practically gave me a heartattack. You said you were seeing  _ someone _ . 10 out of 10 times that means  _ dating. _ ” Making a noise of disgust, he tips his head back to wash the shampoo out of his hair.

“Oh,” Derek says sheepishly. “I'm sorry,” he whispers against Stiles’ shoulder. “I'm sorry for how I told you and for not telling you before.”

“Derek, I'm not mad.” 

“No?”

Stiles shakes his head. “No. How could I be upset at you for seeing an alphologist? I've been seeing Tracey for years. I just can't believe you . . . said that. You're pretty dense sometimes, you know?” He says the last with a smile.

“That just never crossed my mind,” he says thoughtfully. “His name is Jim,” he starts, gauging Stiles’ reaction. “He says I have PTSD and he's helping me deal with the fire. I-I just want to be a good alpha for you. A good daddy for our children.”

“Honey,” Stiles says as gently as possible, “you've needed this for a long time. But you’re a great father and a fantastic Alpha. When you use your words.” Reaching out, he takes Derek's hand and presses a kiss into the palm. 

“Today was hard. And I couldn't get the images out of my mind. And I just . . . I couldn't,” he’s surprised by how his voice breaks and the tears falling down his cheek. “I wanted you . . . I just couldn't.”

Stiles conditions his hair in record time and jumps up out of the bath. Hastily, he wraps a towel around his waist and hugs Derek to him. “It's okay. Baby, I've got you it's okay.”

Derek holds Stiles tightly with both arms around his waist. “I love you so much, Stiles.” Derek lets his tears fall, burying his face into the crook of Stiles’ neck. He carries Stiles to their bedroom and let's go quickly to remove the towel and lays Stiles down. He gets in behind Stiles, pushes his sweats down his legs and kicks them off the bed and wraps himself behind Stiles. “Is this okay?” He asks. He wants to be as close to Stiles as possible. 

“Baby.” Stiles pulls Derek’s arm tight around his body like he's a blanket. “I always want you around me. With me. In me.” Unsure if he can or should press his luck further, he nuzzles Derek’s arm.

“Just like this,” Derek whispers against Stiles’ nape. He pulls Stiles tighter to his body, chest flushed against Stiles’ back, groin against Stiles’ ass. Derek rubs circles around Stiles’ navel and lower tummy, peppering open mouth kisses along his neck and shoulder. “Love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” Stiles inhales deeply and let's his breath out in a content sigh. For all the craziness of the day, he wouldn't give up moments like this for anything.

*

Derek has been such a sport about all of this that Stiles almost feels bad for making him help make decisions.

“This one should be good, though. You like cake, don't you?” Stiles pulls open the door to  _ Dessert Creations _ and ushers his mate through. 

They're greeted by Wendi, the shop owner Stiles spoke to on the phone. She sits them down at a bistro table and carries over two cakes to start: one has a sort of lemon glaze, and the other tastes like fresh strawberries. Stiles’ mouth feels like it's having an orgasm. 

Derek hears Stiles’ obscene moan and clenches his hand on his thigh. “You like it that much, huh?” Derek asks playfully, taking a bite of the cake Stiles just put in his mouth. 

“ _ Oh,”  _ Derek makes similar noises. The taste of strawberries and cream rich and fresh on his palette. “That's  _ really _ good.”

“Right?” Stiles allows his eyes to close in bliss.

Wendi brings them 6 more options two-by-two, each more delicious than the last. Stiles wants them all. There's no way he could choose one.

“I'm never going to be able to choose.” He shares a look with Derek. “But. I think the blood orange chocolate one was the best. That's the one I want to smash in your face on our wedding day.” He punctuates the last with a sly grin.

“Oh yeah?” Derek leans in and bites Stiles’ earlobe. “Try it and see what happens,” he whispers playfully. 

Stiles’s grin is wide and happy. He loves it when Derek goes all Alpha on him. “Is that a promise?” Snagging one last kiss, Stiles turns back to Wendi. “We like the blood orange chocolate.”

Wendi smiles. “That's a favourite. Now, are you planning to do grooms’ cakes?”

Derek frowns in confusion. “What's a grooms’ cake?”

Stiles crosses his arms with a self-satisfied grin. “You'd know if you agreed to watch  _ Cake Boss  _ with me.”

“It's an extra cake decorated specifically for the groom. It's a modern idea,” Wendi explained.

Derek intertwined his fingers with Stiles and brings his hands up to nip at the omega’s fingers. “What do you think, baby?” 

Stiles shrugs. “You're the groom.”

“I'm not sure. Is there such thing as too much cake?” Derek asks genuinely curious. 

“Ask the kids that question.” Stiles gestures at Wendi. “Tell the lady what you want on your cake.”

*

Monday morning, Stiles got home from work first, and trying to wrangle five kids and get dinner together was by far the hardest thing he'd done all day. 

“Conor, please set the table for me.” 

“Hazlo tú,” Conor responds and goes to sit with his siblings and watch TV. 

“ _ Conor,”  _ Stiles says again. “ _ Set _ the table.” His son has been on a “speak only Spanish” kick since he started learning it in school, but it's wearing on Stiles’s nerves. 

Conor gives a put upon sigh and grumbles as he grabs the utensils and napkins. “ _ Siempre yo _ ,” he mumbles under his breath. 

“ _ Respeta!”  _ Derek growls as he walks through the door. He walks up to Stiles and pecks a kiss on his cheek before turning to Conor. “What's up with you, Con?” 

“That's right. Daddy el speako Espanole,” Stiles says. He blows out a frustrated breath.

Conor lowers his eyes and a flush rises on his cheeks. “I'm sorry, dad.”

“You don't apologize to me. You apologize to your mom.”

Conor crosses his arms and there's a frown on his face and he turns away from his parents. 

“Conor,” Derek calls out to his son who is stubbornly not looking their way. 

“Let it go, Der.” Stiles pulls a stack of plates out of the cabinet and starts setting the table himself. “If Conor doesn't want to participate in this family, he doesn't have to. Ted, could you do Mommy a favour and put a plate and a fork at everyone's seat?”

Obediently, Teddy takes over Conor’s job. His little face tightens in concentration as he sets each plate down carefully and adds a fork to the side.

Derek walks towards Conor and squats down at eye level with his son. “Con?”

Derek can see the unshed tears in his eyes before he looks away from Derek. Derek sighs frustratedly and stands back up. “You, mommy, and I will have a talk later. You're punished for the rest of the week. No iPad unless it's for homework.”

Conor drops his arms and stares at his father with shock and hurt in his eyes. He nods once and walks to the guest bathroom. 

Stiles ruffles Teddy’s hair and directs him to sit down. “Natty, Remy, Lucy! Dinner, kids!” 

The three youngest Hale children come tearing into the room as Stiles hauls a monster bowl of spaghetti to the table. Derek follows with a plate of garlic bread and a bowl of salad.

“ _ Everyone  _ is eating salad tonight.” He gives a meaningful look at the girls, who tend to fight him on it.

As soon as Stiles helps fill each of their children’s plates, Derek pulls Stiles aside, away from little ears. “What happened with Conor?”

“Derek, I really don't know. I picked him up from school today, and all he would say was in Spanish. I honestly don't know what I did to upset him.” 

“Whether you did something or not, he shouldn't behave this way. You're his mother, he shouldn’t treat you like that.” Derek pulls Stiles into a hug. He can see how Conor’s attitude is affecting Stiles. “We’ll talk to him after dinner, okay?”

Stiles nods against Derek’s shoulder. “Okay.” They take their places amongst the kids, and right away Stiles has to wipe sauce off Lucy’s face. She's even got it in her hair, and Stiles winces, but the kids love spaghetti night.

“Good sketti!” Remy declares, giving Stiles a toothy smile.

“I know, Buddy.”

Conor sits quietly in his seat and eats his food. Derek notices his red rimmed eyes, and although Conor has always been more on the quiet side, he's not conversing with his siblings like he always does. 

They make it through dinner without any major spillage, and start to get the kids ready for bed. He takes the twins for a bath while Stiles handles Nat and Teddy. Remy decides he wants to wear a nightie like Lucy and Derek just goes with it. Once the twins are bathed, wearing their matching nighties, and are asleep before their heads hits the pillow. 

Stiles gets his half of the kids down without incident. Spaghetti night usually has that effect on them.

Derek walks out of the twin’s room and stands outside of Conor's room waiting for Stiles. He can hear Conor shuffling in his room, and he knows he can probably hear Derek outside his door. 

Stiles kisses Teddy’s forehead and backs out of his room. He finds Derek waiting in the hall. 

“Are you ready for this?”

“I didn't think he'd hit a rebellious stage,” Derek answers sadly. Derek knocks on Conor’s door and waits for Conor to answer before he opens it. 

“Yeah, me either,” Stiles mutters, equally confused.

They find Conor sitting on his bed, knees close to his chest and his arms resting over them. His little face looks dejected. 

“Hey,” Derek says quietly as he sits at the foot of the bed. 

Conor looks at his parents and Derek can see his eyes are glassy with unshed tears. “Hi, daddy . . .” He breathes deeply and looks at Stiles. “Hi, mama.”

Stiles’s heart breaks. "Hi, baby. What's wrong?” 

Conor shrugs again.

Derek wills himself to have patience. Conor is not usually this stubborn or rude. “Come on, Con. Talk to us. Please?”

Derek can see Conor’s little body tremble with the effort to not cry. Derek moves closer to his son and wraps an arm around him. “What's going on, son? Why be so rude with mommy?”

Conor sniffles before burying his face in his hands. He mumbled something that even Derek's werewolf ears can't hear. 

“Take a breath, Con. And say that again.”

“Why did mommy stop loving me?”

Stiles can't stop his eyes from filling with tears. It takes him two tries before he can speak. “Baby. Why would you think I don't love you? Of course I do.” His hands itch to pull Conor into him--his first born--but he wants to hear Conor’s answer first.

“You yell at me a lot. And you always tell me to do stuff but you never tell Teddy. And you never yell at my brothers or sisters.” Conor cries harder, burying his face in his hands. 

“Come here,” Stiles says, pulling an unresisting Conor into his lap. He holds his son tightly and rocks him as he cries.

Conor hugs his mom tightly, scenting him and burying his face in his mother’s neck. “I just want you to love me again, mama. I'm sorry I was bad.”

“I do love you, baby. I've never stopped loving you. And I don't mean to yell at you, but you're the oldest, so your dad and I expect more out of you.” He looks at Derek helplessly. 

“How about we start evening out some chores with you and Teddy? And mommy will try not to yell. How does that sound?” Derek suggests. He's never seen Conor this distraught. 

“Okay,” he mumbles against his mother’s throat.

“But, Con . . .” Derek pauses to figure out how to phrase what he wants to say next. “I'm really proud you're learning another language. I can help you.  _ But _ , that doesn't mean you can be rude to your mom just because he doesn't understand, okay?”

“I'm sorry, mommy.”

“I'm sorry, too, Monster.” Stiles smacks a loud kiss on Conor’s cheek. “What do you say we watch a movie in Mommy and Daddy’s bed? Just the three of us, and we can have popcorn. That seems like something you can do because you're the oldest, right?”

Conor's eyes light up. “Can we watch _ Inside Out?” _

“I'll get it set up,” Derek says as he stands up. He ruffles Conor’s hair and whispers an  _ I love you _ before he meets Stiles’ eyes and winks at him. 

Derek puts down the comforter and arranges the pillows so they can all snuggle together. Stiles and Conor walk in minutes later with a big bowl of popcorn. Conor’s hand in Stiles’. 

Derek lies down and pats the spot next to himself. “Who wants to snuggle with me?”

_ “Me!”  _ Stiles and Conor cry out at the same time. Laughing, they jump onto the bed together. Conor snuggled up against Derek and Stiles curls around Conor’s other side.

It doesn’t take them long to settle, and the movie is not even halfway through before Conor’s asleep. He snuffles into Stiles’ side, and the tenderness of the moment makes Derek’s heart soar.

“I’m going to put him in his bed,” he whispers to Stiles who is softly caressing Conor’s hair from his face.

“Okay.” Stiles kisses his son on the head before relinquishing him to his father. Fond smile on his face, he watches as Derek carries Conor out of the room. It hasn’t been easy getting this far, but Stiles wouldn’t trade lives with anyone.

Letting out a content sigh, he snuggles into Derek’s recently-vacated spot and inhales the scent of his mate. 

Derek walks back into their bedroom and smiles at his mate snuggled in Derek's side of the bed. 

“Hey there thief,” he chuckles against Stiles’ shoulder. 

Stiles groans and snuffles in reply. “Your side is always warmer.” He shuffles over so Derek can reclaim his spot, then curls up close to him. He can feel the heat of Derek’s skin through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. “I can’t decide if I’m tired or horny.” 

Derek is surprised by the laughter that bubbles out of him. He rolls over and lays on top of Stiles. He leans down, kissing Stiles deeply. “Hmm, still tired?” He asks as he shifts his hips and aligns their cocks together. 

“Nope.” Stiles shakes his head. “Definitely horny.” He bends his knees so that his long legs cradle Derek’s body on either side. Derek’s cock is rubbing his, and Stiles cants his hips upwards. “God, I want you,” he sighs. His hands cup Derek’s stubbled cheeks, and he drags him down for another kiss. “You should probably start by eating me out.” 

“You think so?” Derek rubs his cheek against Stiles’ throat. “Maybe I should open you on my tongue,” he licks a stripe up Stiles’ jaw. “Fuck you until you’re wet and leaking. Coming around my tongue. Is that what you want?”

Stiles almost can’t form words. His cock has gone from mildly interested to rock hard in an instant. Again, he arches against Derek. “God, yes. Fuck me on your tongue, Derek.” His hole clenches and he can feel the slick beginning to slide out of him. Sometimes just a hot stare from Derek is all it takes to make him leak. Stiles loves the effect his mate has on him. 

Derek latches on to Stiles throat, licking and biting until a visible bruise rises on his skin. He leans back and pulls Stiles pants off him. He watches as Stiles’ cock bounces on his lower belly, flushed and leaking precum. 

He stands and gets rid of his own clothes, watching as Stiles fingers his hole. 

“Want to suck my cock while I eat your hole?” Derek asks as he crawls between Stiles’ thighs, pushing his shirt up to latch onto a nipple. 

“God, yes.” Stiles buries his fingers in Derek’s silky hair as he lifts one leg to wrap it around Derek’s waist. At the rate they’re going, he’s going to blow before any of Derek gets inside him. “You want me on top?”

“No. I want to fuck your mouth,” Derek growls. He flips around, cock over Stiles’ face. “Open for me.”

If he could cum untouched, Stiles would shoot his load then and there. As it is, he opens his mouth and waits as Derek lowers the tip of his dick into it. Hands prize his cheeks open, and he can feel warm breath ghosting over his hole. If his mouth wasn’t full, he would tell Derek to move just a little faster. 

Derek moans as soon as Stiles starts licking the head of his cock. He thrusts in slowly, fucking into Stiles mouth as he licks and sucks at Stiles’ hole. He pushes a thumb inside, watching the muscle relax around the intrusion. 

“Always ready for me,” he kisses the rim, scraping his stubble around the sensitive area. “I love your little cunt.” Derek moans as he licks around the rim, pushing two fingers along with his tongue. “I love to see it open for me. How it takes my knot.” He emphasizes the last point with a nip of Stiles’ ass. “I want to breed you and then plug your ass so I’m inside you even when I pull out.” He says the last word on a moan. Stiles’ tongue and throat haven’t stopped sucking and licking.

He sits back on his heels, watches as Stiles’ mouth is opened wide around his cock. Derek places a hand on Stiles’ throat, feeling it convulse around his cock. “Just a little deeper, Stiles.”

Stiles wraps his arms around Derek’s thighs and pats him so he knows Stiles is quite all right with this. He tilts his chin up, allowing Derek’s cock to nudge the back of his throat. He doesn’t have an especially sensitive gag reflex, but the angle allows Derek to get much deeper than usual. In his position, though, he doesn’t have any friction on his dick, and he whines around the shaft in his mouth.

Derek thrusts slowly, watching Stiles’ throat expand, watching Stiles’ shift to try to get some stimulation on his dick or in his ass. Derek pulls out slowly, watching a string of saliva drip down Stiles’ mouth. 

  
“Does your hole feel empty?” He rubs circles with his thumb on Stiles’ cheeks, watching the younger man take deep breaths. 

“Yes,” Stiles says once he’s caught his breath. “I need you so much, Derek.” He twists his head, trying to get Derek’s thumb in his mouth, but the Alpha evades him at every turn. 

“Fuck, Stiles,” Derek groans. “I want to breed you. My perfect omega,” he whispers as he climbs off the bed. Derek digs around their nightstand and pulls out their smallest plug and tosses it next to Stiles. 

He crawls back to Stiles, kissing him soundly as he slips two fingers into his ass. He pumps his hand, driving his fingers as deep as they will go. Derek loves to hear Stiles moan so he adds a third finger, making Stiles feel fuller. 

He fucks Stiles with his fingers, feeling Stiles’ natural slick coat his palm. “You’re  _ so wet _ ,” he groans against Stiles’ ear. Derek pulls his fingers free, quieting a sound of discontent from his mate before he picks up the plug.

“Is this okay?” He wants to make sure Stiles consents to everything they do. Derek would never want to hurt Stiles in that way.

“Of course,” Stiles replies. He lifts one leg to give Derek better access and groans when Derek takes ahold of his leg and the head of his dick brushes against Stiles’s entrance. “God, yes.” Stiles’s head falls against the mattress with a dull  _ thunk _ against the headboard, and he freezes, hoping he didn’t wake the kids. 

Dropping the plug to the bed, Derek smiles and wraps his hands around Stiles’ hips to tilt them higher. He brushes his cock against Stiles’ entrance, teasing his mate a little; laughing when Stiles glares at him and smacks a hand on Derek’s thigh. 

Derek shuffles forward, lining the head of his dick against Stiles’ hole and he pushes forward slowly, feeling Stiles’ ass flex around his cock. They both groan at the feeling, panting against each other’s neck. 

“You feel so good, Stiles,” Derek moans as he pulls out slightly and pushes in deeper. He grinds his hips against Stiles ass and groans loudly when he feels Stiles’ teeth on his throat.

“So do you,” Stiles says with his teeth still clamped around the skin of Derek’s throat. He wants to mark his Alpha, show the world that Derek belongs to someone, belongs to  _ him.  _

Derek caresses Stiles’ thigh as he moves his hips in long, slow thrusts. He mouths at Stiles’ shoulder, leaving marks along his neck and collarbone. “I'm going to fuck you slow,” he emphasizes with deep thrust. “Have you begging for my knot.” 

“I always want your knot,” Stiles pants back. The pressure is building slowly. It's a delicious burn that Stiles can feel swelling like the music in a long movement. He licks at the spot on Derek’s neck, laving it liberally with his tongue.

“I want to ride you.”

With a growl, Derek flips them over  and settles against the headboard of their bed; his cock deeply nestled in the warm heat of Stiles’ ass. “Work that pussy for my knot, baby.” 

Planting his palms against the headboard, Stiles begins to work his hips. He gyrates in Derek’s lap, pulling groans of pleasure from his mate’s lips. “You like that?” Stiles asks. “You like me on top, Derek? Working my ass on your cock?” 

Derek moans loudly. “Yeah, Stiles. Love to watch you fuck yourself on my dick.” Derek sits up, dislodging Stiles’ hold from the headboard, to mouth on Stiles’ nipple. He grabs Stiles’ wrists and pushes them against Stiles’ back, keeping them locked together. They’re flush together, Stiles cock trapped between their bodies.

“Just like this, Stiles.  _ Fuck _ .”

“You want me to cum like this? On your cock?” Stiles’s hands flex ineffectually against Derek’s hold. He closes his eyes and concentrates on the feeling of his dick rubbing against the flat plane of Derek’s stomach. Just a little longer, and he’s going to spill.   

“Do you think I could breed you right now? Stuff you full of my cub . . .” Derek groans. He’s been thinking about another child ever since Stiles brought it up all those months ago. And that’s all he wants now. To come inside Stiles, keep him full of come with the plug to make sure none of it spills out, and a baby implants itself deep inside Stiles’ womb.

The thought of Derek fucking another baby into him makes Stiles go hot all over. He can’t get pregnant outside of a heat, but his ass doesn’t know that as it clenches around Derek. 

“You want my baby, don’t you, Stiles?” Derek growls against Stiles’ throat, nipping and licking the sensitive skin. 

“I want as many babies as you’ll give me.” 

“Mmm,” Derek shifts to match his thrusts with Stiles, feeling satisfied when his mate muffles a yell against Derek’s throat. “I’m coming, Stiles,” Derek groans and thrusts faster, feeling his knot swell and catch against Stiles’ rim. “Take it, Stiles. Take my come.” 

Stiles bears down and clenches as he feels Derek fill him. He still hasn’t cum yet, and his own dick throbs between their bodies. He pets Derek’s face, his shoulders, his chest, gentling him through the aftershocks.

“Shit,” Derek laughs as he leans back against the headboard again. He drags his hand down Stiles’ body, resting it against Stiles’ cock. “Mark me, Stiles,” he whispers as he strokes Stiles’ dick. 

“Fuck, yes.” Stiles plants his teeth in the meat of Derek’s shoulder as he comes in long, ropey strands over his mate’s chest. He clamps down on the knot inside of him, and it only serves to make him cum harder. His toes clench and he groans long and low as he spills himself. 

Stiles’ goes limp in Derek’s arms as soon as he’s finished coming. “You were loud,” Derek giggles against Stiles’ hair, wrapping his arms around his mate to keep the chill away. 

“Me?” Stiles’ tone is incredulous, but he laughs. “You’re the one who was all  _ let me plug you up with my babies, Omega _ . It was hot, but I felt like I was in some 70s porno or something.” Giggling once more, Stiles nuzzles his face against Derek’s neck. He inhales deeply and sighs against Derek’s skin. “I love you.” 

Derek laughs, causing Stiles’ prone body to shift with his movements. “I  _ am  _ going to plug you,” he laughs harder when Stiles rolls his eyes at him. “And you loved it.”

He holds Stiles’ face, caressing his cheek bones, loving everything about his omega. “I  _ really _ think I want another baby,” he says shyly but sincerely. “I want to see your belly get round, and smell how much sweeter you are, and hear our baby’s heartbeat when you’re keeping them safe in here,” he settles his hand on Stiles’ lower belly. “I want to wake up at two in the morning because you suddenly craved broccoli with fried chicken and thousand island dressing. And I want to massage your feet when they hurt,” Derek continues softly. “I want my entire life to be with you.” 

Cupping Derek’s stubbles face in his hands, Stiles kisses him softly. “You're going to make me cry. I love you, too, you big softie wolf.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3 a million thank-yous to everyone who is still reading and commenting on this silly soap opera.


	7. At Home With the Fam

As the wedding preparations were taken care of by their new wedding planner, Derek was knee deep in continuing the expansion of his gym. More and more alphas, betas, and omega families joined his gym and made use of their family classes and child care centers. It's more than Derek could have ever asked for, and as their classes become full, he's excited to see the expansion begin. Which will happen after the holidays. 

Derek takes an early lunch and drives by Stiles’ job to drop off his favorite curly fries. He texts his mate, the smell of fried potatoes and grilled meat fills the car as he waits for Stiles to meet him. 

He sees Stiles, dressed in a jacket and thick scarf, the brisk December weather, much colder than it usually is makes Stiles’ cheeks flush. Stiles waves at him from the entrance of his building before making his way to Derek. The smile never fails to make Derek's heart swell with love. 

“Surprise, baby.” Derek smiles, holding up Stiles’ lunch, as Stiles enters the car.

Stiles makes grabby hands for the brown paper bag. He can already see the grease marks the fries are leaving behind.

“Yeeeeeesss,” he sighs as his long fingers fold around the bag. “And this right here is why you are my favorite husband.” Gleeful, he reaches in and pulls out a foil-wrapped cheeseburger. It smells so much more appetising than the sad ham sandwich he’d packed himself that morning. His stomach growls. Nothing beats hot beef covered in cheese and ketchup.

“Favorite husband, huh?” Derek smirks. “You're in the top five of favorite omegas, too.” He watches Stiles glare at him, unable to speak with a mouth full of meat and cheese. 

Hastily, Stiles chews and swallows. It's a wonder he doesn't choke. “ _ Top five? _ ” Making a face, he shoves his hand back into the bag and pulls out a handful of fries. “We’ll see who gets a ‘thanks for lunch’ beej tonight. Probably my other husband.” Cramming the fries into his mouth, Stiles stares across the seat at his mate. His heart is full to bursting.

Derek leans over the console, crowding Stiles against the car door. He flashes his eyes playfully before he takes a bite of Stiles fries and sits back in his seat, smug. “Mmmmm,” Derek exaggerates his sound of pleasure. “So good.”

He watches as Stiles eyes widen and then looks around. “Nobody's around, but whatever you're thinking will have to wait for tonight. I'm going to get Conor’s birthday presents. Are we doing a class party? Should I get some cupcakes for his class?” Derek tries to steal more fries but Stiles slaps his hand away from the bag. 

“You have your own. These are mine.” Stiles loosens his scarf. It's too warm in the heat of the car. “Yes and yes, but make sure you get those ones that are strictly nut-free. The last thing we need is sending some kid to the hospital on Conor’s birthday.” He tosses his scarf in Derek’s lap. “And I told you no bj.”

“Oh no? We'll see if you can hold back from all this,” Derek gestures at himself and winks at his mate. He laughs when Stiles gives him a look and decides to go back to their cupcake conversation. “Two dozen should be okay? Should I get some gluten free? All these allergies are. . .” Derek shakes his head unable to finish the thought. Werewolves don't have allergies. 

“Mmhmm,” Stiles vocalises through his last bite. He leans over to steal a greasy kiss. “Better safe than sorry. And if you're a good boy, maybe I'll jump ahead of your 4 other omegas and steal some one on one time.” 

“I'm always a good boy,” Derek reaches out to trace the line of Stiles neck. “Just you, Stiles. It's always just you. No other omega will do.”

“I know.” A small smile curls the corner of Stiles’s lip. Nearly a decade together and Derek never fails to make his heart race. “Thanks for bringing me lunch. I didn't think I'd see you until I got home.”

“I missed you and figured you'd prefer greasy fries over the sandwich Conor tried to make you this morning.” Derek hears the bell announcing the period being over and looks back at Stiles. “I think your lunch period is over,” Derek says sadly. 

“Back to shaping young minds.” Stiles retrieves his scarf and wraps it back around his neck. “I love you.” He takes Derek’s face in both hands and kisses him just this side of chastely.

“Love you more,” Derek whispers against Stiles lips. “I'll see you at home?”

“You bet.” Stiles steals one last kiss before hopping out of the car. The wind picks up the end of his scarf and waves it in the air.

Derek watches Stiles make his way to the school building and waves when Stiles turns to wave from the door. He sets the car to drive and makes his way to the mall; determined to get Conor the best present. They always celebrate early so his little boy doesn't feel he's forgotten because of Christmas. 

He stops at Stiles favorite bakery first and gets several gluten free, peanut-free cupcakes for Conor’s class before he gets some lemon bars as a surprise for his mate. He hopes the kids want to stay with their grandfather so he and Stiles can have a quiet night together --Jim’s orders. 

Derek takes his purchase with a smile, happy to pick up Conor's present and head home to his family. 

*

Stiles spends the rest of the day floating on air. His students are well-behaved, and he even lets them have a treat from the special candy jar just before the day ends. 

“Bye, Mr. S!” their little voices chorus as they file out the door.

“See you tomorrow!” Stiles calls back. Teaching often eases the ache he feels when he thinks about having another baby. 

He gets halfway through grading his stack of math tests when Conor appears in the doorway with Teddy in tow.

“Hi Mommy,” Teddy says. He sits down at one of the desks and pulls his iPad out of his backpack. Stiles would prefer he work on homework, but that often ends with an argument about the word  _ home _ , so he lets it slide.

Conor, uncharacteristically solemn, slumps down in the chair in front of Stiles’ desk. “Hey, Mom.”

“What's up, Monster? You have a bad day?”

“Jenny said she doesn't want to come to my birthday party.” 

For weeks, Stiles has heard about Jenny: her love of strawberry-flavoured milk, the neon green tennis shoes she wears, and the way she says “o” in an exaggeration like the Brits. He hasn't met her, but suddenly Stiles is glad the little tart doesn't want to come to the party. “Did she say why?”

Conor shrugs, watching his little brother animatedly slash his fingers across his iPad screen. “She said . . .” He trails off, unable to repeat what Jenny said. He feels tears prick at his eyes and he can't look at his mom in the eyes anymore. 

“Conor?” Stiles lowers his voice into the tone he uses with struggling students. His heart is breaking watching this. He knew the day would come that his baby got a broken heart, but he never wanted to see it. “Honey, what did she say?” Preemptively, he picks up his tissues and sets them down in front of his son.

Conor tries to sniffle quietly, and fails. He takes the tissue and looks around the room. He takes a deep breath and braces himself for his mom’s reaction. “She said that she doesn't want to go to parties for kids who were  _ accidents _ . Was I an accident, mama?”

Stiles draws in a deep breath and blows it out his nose. He is actually going to kill someone else’s child. How she heard that is beyond Stiles. 

He glances at Teddy, but he's engrossed in his game.

“Conor James, you are the best thing that ever happened to your dad and me, and I mean that.  _ You _ brought us together. Well, your dad was…” Stiles pauses. “I was really hoping you'd be older for this conversation. Let's just say that your dad and I were very much in love when we made you. What's accidental about that?”

Conor gives his mom a watery smile, feeling slightly better. “She said the only way daddy would have had you stay with him was because of me. And she called that an accidental mistake.”

“Conor, we loved you so much that we made Teddy and then we became mates. Doesn't that sound more logical? There were no mistakes.” In his mind, Stiles hopes that his son doesn't take his words to mean “get pregnant before you're mated,” but he's 9, so they have time yet for a Real Talk.

“But Mrs. Smith said that you're supposed to get mated  _ before _ having babies.” Conor insists stubbornly. 

_ Mrs. Smith is a cunt _ , Stiles thinks. To Conor he says, “But honey, how many mates has Mrs. Smith had?”

Conor shrugs, not knowing the answer. “Mommy, daddy always says mating is for life.”

“That's right. It's supposed to be because it's the most special thing in the whole world. What's special about Mrs. Smith having 4 mates?”

Conor’s eyes widen. “ _ Four? Mama _ . . .” 

“Four.” Stiles nods safely. “How many Daddies do you have?”

“One?” Conor asks. 

Stiles chuckles. “Only one.” 

“I only ever want to have one mate. Like you and daddy.”

“And you will. Some day, you'll find someone who brings you soup in bed like Daddy does. Not someone like Jenny who makes you feel like the love in our home is something to be ashamed of. Now do you believe me, baby? Nothing about you is an accident.” 

Conor jumps off the chair and runs to his mom’s side, leaping at him for a hug. “Mama, you're the bestest. I love you.” Conor leaves kisses on his mom’s cheek like Lucy does to him. 

“You know what?” Stiles pulls away so he can look into Conor’s--Derek’s--grey eyes. “So are you.” He restacks his math tests. He can finish them tomorrow.

“I don't want Jenny at my party anymore. She's ucky.” Conor says with utter distaste. 

“Well, son,” Stiles announces magnanimously, “it's your party.”

“I don't want her at my party, either,” Teddy says.

Laughing, Stiles stands up from his desk. “Buddy, you're not having a party. Are you guys ready to go home?”

“Yes!” Conor wiggles excitedly. 

Stiles shoulders his bag. “Well, my darlings, the night is young.”

*

They decide collectively to go to Conor’s favorite restaurant for dinner. Both Stiles and Derek are too tired to cook, and the kids love that they get to color on the butcher paper tabletops.

“Mom, can I go--” Teddy gesticulates wildly at the arcade section of the restaurant.

“After we eat.” Stiles sets two crayons in front of his son. “Why don't you draw me another picture?”

Shrugging, Teddy picks up one of the crayons and considers the picture in front of him. Stiles isn't sure if it's supposed to be a dog or a tree.

Derek has Lucy and Remy on his lap, entertaining them with the crayons their host provided. They had originally started in their booster chair, and then Lucy had said, “daddy, lap!” And Remy followed suit. 

He looks up at Stiles sitting across from him, he smells like happiness and love, and he's coloring with Teddy and Natalia. He's a family man --they both are. Derek's overcome with how far they've gotten in their relationship these past couple of months. 

“Hey, Stiles,” he calls out. 

Stiles’s head jerks up at the sound of Derek’s voice. No matter how crowded the room, he will always hear his mate. “Yeah, baby?”

“I love you,” Derek says with a wink. He watches as a flush spreads along Stiles’ cheeks before returning his attention to the twins. It can sometimes be difficult to have time for just him and Stiles with the kids being so young. He hopes Stiles agrees to drop the kids off at John’s place before they go home. 

“I love you, too, you big goof.” 

The waitress returns with their food, and Stiles watches as Conor and Teddy dig in with gusto. Natalia doesn't need much help, but he squirts some ketchup on her plate and reminds her to use her napkin.  Across the table, Derek has his hands full with the twins. Stiles’s heart swells with pride.

“Der?” Stiles says. When he gets his mate’s attention, he swipes at his own chin to tell Derek he's got cheese in his beard.

Derek rolls his eyes and wipes his chin clean. Occupational hazard. The twins have decided they each want to feed their daddy and their hand eye coordination isn't the best. Derek nibbles gently on Remy’s finger when he sticks a fry in his mouth and it drives the toddler into a fit of giggles. 

“Daddy?” Natalia calls to Derek from her side of the table. 

“Yes, baby girl?”

“I'm baby girl!” Lucy yells grumpily from Derek’s lap. “I'm baby girl! She Nattie,” she finishes with a huff and her little fists grab on to Derek’s henley with a lot more strength than should be possible for a four year old. 

“You're both my baby girls,” Derek tries. 

He can see that was the wrong answer as Lucy looks at him with eyes that speak of the depths of the betrayal. It takes effort for Derek not to laugh at his little girl’s dramatic antics. 

“ _ Daddy _ ,” Natalia says more insistently. 

“Yes,  _ honey _ ?” He emphasizes to make sure Lucy hears him change the endearment. Lucy snuggles into Derek's chest, nibbling on a chicken tender and sniffling quietly. 

Derek's attention goes back to Natalia. “I'm sorry, honey. What's up?”

“Where do babies come from?” she asks nonchalantly. 

Stiles has to stop himself from choking on his soda. He coughs to clear his airway and steals a sip from Teddy’s water.

“Hey!” Teddy calls out. 

Helpless, Stiles meets Derek’s eyes across the table. 

“Mommies,” he says definitively. 

“Oh,” Natalia sounds disappointed. “What's sex?”

Stiles’s fork falls to his plate with a loud clatter.

“Where did you hear that word, Nattie?” Derek chokes out. 

“Gabriel in my class said his mommy had sex with the milkman and had his baby brother. And he didn't know what sex was. Did the milk man give his mommy milk and then made a baby?”

“I like chocolate milk,” Remy told the table.

“You guys are ready to play games, aren't you?” Stiles pulled a handful of quarters out of his pocket and handed them to Conor. “Divide them up evenly and  _ stick together _ .” They could see the kids across the restaurant, but they could never be too careful. 

“But, mom, I want to know how mommies get babies.” Natalia whines stubbornly. 

Taking a deep breath, Stiles stared Derek down.  _ Your turn _ , his eyes seemed to say. 

Derek sighs heavily and looks at Natalia. “Nattie, sex is for adults. You're not ready right now to talk about it, okay? I promise in a couple more years your mom will tell you all about it,” Derek chuckles and looks at Stiles. He laughs at his mate’s outraged squawk. “We  _ both _ will tell you about it, okay?”

“Go play with your brothers and Lucy.”

Stiles sighs as Natalia slides off her chair and scrambles after the others. He gets up from his own chair and sinks into the one beside Derek. Reaching out, he snags Derek’s wine glass and takes a long sip. “Maybe I don't want more kids after all.”

Derek laughs and pulls Stiles into his lap. He nuzzles against Stiles’ throat. “Liar,” he murmurs. He watches his children laughing and jumping around in the arcade area. He can hear Remy’s small giggles when Lucy makes a face at him. 

“Look at them.” Derek holds Stiles closer, feeling love and home and happiness. “I wouldn't trade them for anything.”

Stiles kisses his mate. “Me either.”

*

On the way home, they drop the kids off with the Sheriff and Melissa. Stiles loves his children dearly, but it's important for them to spend time with their grandparents. Plus, he and Derek need their alone time, too.

Stiles opens the front door with a sigh. “The house is so quiet,” he whispers.

Derek laughs quietly behind his mate. With Stiles around, nothing is ever quiet per se. But he doesn't say that because he doesn't want to offend Stiles. He loves the constant chatter anyway. “It's a nice quiet . . .  _ sometimes _ .”

He hugs Stiles from behind and hooks his chin over Stiles’ shoulder. “I brought you a surprise,” he teases. 

Stiles looks over his shoulder and receives a kiss for his trouble. “Is it a sexy surprise?”

Derek nips at Stiles’ ear. “Why don't you go upstairs. Change into something comfortable. And I'll bring you the surprise?”

“Sooooo…” Stiles raises an eyebrow. “‘Something more comfortable’ like one of your work shirts or like the sweatpants I took off this morning?”

Derek takes a moment to think about this. “I like seeing you in my clothes,” he growls playfully. He steps back and pats Stiles’ ass. “Go change. Set up Netflix and I'll be up in a bit.” He makes his way to the kitchen before he responds to Stiles’ teasing. 

Stiles jogs upstairs and strips off his work shirt and tie. He glances at the closet, but the thought of wearing a button-down after just taking one off isn't nearly as exciting as it was when he was a teenager. Instead, he pulls on a pair of grey pair of boxer briefs and a white t-shirt. Grabbing the remote, he snuggles into their cavernous bed and turns on Netflix.

Derek walks up the stairs with a tray of tea and Stiles’ lemon bars. He watches his mate flip through Netflix channels and leaves the tray on the foot of the bed. 

“Baby!” Stiles sits upright in bed. 

“Surprise. . .” Derek says shyly. 

“Best husband ever.” Stiles punctuates each of his words with a kiss. “I hope this works for what you had in mind.” He lifts the edge of the blanket to show Derek what he's wearing. 

“Are you comfortable?” Derek asks. He walks to his side of the bed and pulls the tray to sit between them. 

Stiles wedges one hand underneath the waistband of Derek’s pants, just soaking in the warmth of his hip. “I am now.” 

Derek settles back, cuddling with Stiles at his side. “How was your day?” Derek asks as he breaks a piece of the lemon bar to feed Stiles. 

Moaning around Derek’s fingers, Stiles chews slowly and swallows. “Not bad. Conor had a rough day, though.”

Derek frowns. “What do you mean? He seemed fine at dinner.” He continues to feed the treat to his mate, enjoying Stiles savoring his favorite dessert. 

“We talked it out, but I guess Kristen Smith told her daughter, Jenny, that Conor was an accident.” 

“ _ What?! _ ” Derek roars, dislodging Stiles and getting out of their bed. “Tell me,” he demands. He can feel his eyes turn crimson and he's ready to cause damage with his claws. He looks at Stiles who's eyes have gone wide. 

The lemon bars are saved only by Stiles’s quick reflexes. “Calm down!” he admonishes. “We talked it over, and he's  _ fine.” _

_ “ _ But she said that. To  _ our _ son!” Derek takes a deep breath to calm down. And then he takes a couple more for good measure. “Is there anything we can do to bring attention to this matter?”

“Bring attention--Derek, they're kids. They say shitty things to each other, and they repeat what their parents say.” He holds out the lemon bars. “Come back to bed.”

“I don't like this,” Derek grumbles but does as Stiles says. “I just can't believe anyone would say that to a  _ child _ . Let alone  _ our child _ .” 

Stiles sighs. “What do you want me to do? Drive to Kristen’s house and demand Jenny apologise?” He regrets the words as soon as they're out of his mouth.

“Is Conor okay?” Derek asks instead of arguing with Stiles. He doesn't want to ruin their evening. 

“He’s fine. We talked it over, and I explained that you and I were in love when I got pregnant. Come back to bed.” 

Derek settles back, still angry but a lot calmer than he should be. He opens his arms, a silent demand for Stiles to get where he belongs. 

“We may not have been in love, but I knew what I wanted with you. I wanted a family. I wanted to have what we have now,” Derek whispers softly. 

Contentment floating out of him in a sigh, Stiles scoots back into his husband’s body. “And we have that.” He lifts one of Derek’s hands and presses a kiss against his knuckles before settling that hand against his belly. The warmth is more than welcome. “Don’t worry about what some jealous broad said. Kids repeat what they hear, and I can guarantee you Conor isn’t going to be in therapy because someone called him a name when he was in fourth grade.” 

Derek spreads his fingers on Stiles’ tummy. His hand covers the whole area and it makes him melancholic for a growing belly once more. He traces patterns absently, thinking about their children and how much he wants to shelter them from any harm. “I can't believe he's in fourth grade,” Derek muses, “and how shitty people can be to children.”

Derek leans down and places a kiss on Stiles’ forehead. “Do you remember they day he was born?”

Stiles tilts his chin up so he can see Derek. “Considering I’m the one who suffered all the contractions and then  _ pushed him out of my body _ , yeah, Honey, I remember.” He ended his words with a laugh. 

Derek mock glares, and then laughs with Stiles. “You were amazing, Stiles. You took control and just knew what to do. And you gave us a healthy baby  _ boy _ ,” he emphasizes the last word. 

“Hah. Hah.” Pursing his lips, Stiles blows his breath out through his nose. So he was wrong about Conor. And Ted. Come to think of it, he was wrong about the sex of every one of their children. “You keep that up, and the next one is going to be a  _ dragon _ .” He realizes what he said as soon as the words leave his mouth.  _ The next one _ .

Derek catches his breath and looks at Stiles with hope. 

“I’m not pregnant,” he says like it’s a question. 

“You haven't had a heat,” Derek remarks. “With the pseudoheat, you won't have a heat in a while. Maybe . . .” Derek trails off, feeling the tension in Stiles’ body. “Or not,” Derek whispers. “Never mind.”

“What?” Stiles asks. 

Derek clears his throat, trying to dislodge the lump forming there. “I've been thinking about this for a long time,” he starts, “and when you said  _ the next one _ , I hoped that you had made up your mind. But I don't want another baby if you're not ready.”

“Well, I’m not going into heat tomorrow.” It’s a non-answer, but Stiles doesn’t know what else to say right now. 

“Why don't we just find a movie?” Derek changes the subject, knowing that Stiles being evasive is his way of showing how uncomfortable he is with the topic. Derek doesn't want to pressure him into another pregnancy if it's not something Stiles wants ever again. 

“Are you okay?” A knot begins to form in his stomach. He’s starting to regret mentioning what happened with Conor. 

“Of course. You're with me,” Derek smiles down at Stiles and grabs the remote. Derek can smell anxiety wafting off of Stiles and he looks down to see his mate biting his lip. “Stiles?” 

“Mmmhmm.” Stiles scrolls through the titles without really reading them. 

“Baby,” Derek gently forces Stiles to look at him. “I'm okay. We do  _ not _ have to have more children. You've made me happier than I ever thought I deserved and you've given me a beautiful family.” He places a chaste kiss on Stiles’ lips. “We’re perfect. Okay?”

Stiles forces a smile. “Okay.” He turns his attention back to the television, and his eyes alight on a promising option. “ _ The Notebook _ ?” 

Derek suppresses a groan but knowing how happy that movie makes Stiles, he nods and tells him to play it. “It  _ is _ your favorite after all.” 

Wiggling closer to Derek, Stiles presses the button to play the film. “Hush. I know you secretly love it.” 

*

Stiles wakes to the end credits of  _ The Notebook _ playing on the TV and Derek snoring softly beside him. Sleepily, Stiles grabs for the remote and shuts off the television. “Babe,” he says. “We fell asleep.” 

“Mm, that's what happens when people are sleepy, Stiles. They fall asleep,” Derek mumbles and dozes off again. 

Rolling onto his belly, Stiles drapes himself over Derek’s body and closes his eyes. “Weren’t we supposed to have sex?” Already, sleep is tugging at the edges of his consciousness. 

“Were we?” Derek asks sleepily. “Maybe in the morning.” He snuggles deeper. 

“Kids’re gone.” 

“Yeah?” Derek lays a palm on Stiles’ plump ass and pats it gently. “Sleep, Stiles.”

“Mmhmm.” Stiles nods against Derek’s chest. A minute later, he’s aslee


	8. Down Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's mid-December when construction on Hale Nation is put on hold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for sticking with us on this fic. We're still plugging along! Much much much planned.

It's mid-December when construction on Hale Nation is put on hold. Derek walks through the progress with Noah, taking notes of the changes and all the work they still have to do. He instructs Noah to take pictures so he can continue to keep the project binder up to date. He stares outside the large bay window facing the lake. 

He zones out, thinking of his family and listening to the shutter of the camera while Noah snaps away. His werewolf senses catch the soft creak of broken wood and plaster and he turns to see that the ceiling is about to collapse on his employee. He runs and knocks Noah out of the way, the wood, metal and plaster fall on Derek, the only thing that saves him from major damage is being a werewolf. 

“Are you okay?” Derek asks Noah whose heart rate is going a mile a minute. 

“Y-y-yeah. You saved me,” Noah whispers in awe. 

Derek gets up, dislodging the debris off his back. His tank top is in tatters, and he twists and turns to see if he has any wounds. 

“You have lots of little cuts and a large gash towards the middle of your back that we should clean out,” Noah says looking a little green. 

“Call the contractor and close this area off. It's not safe for anyone to be here and I don't want people to come near it,” Derek growls, feeling the sting of his back. 

Derek pushes Noah towards the exit, careful of any more falling debris. He takes the camera from Noah and heads to his office to clean up. Derek can feel his temper rise, what if he'd taken  _ Stiles _ there. He shakes his head and lets his anger simmer, his contractor is going to get an earful. 

*

Derek slams the phone into the receiver after his talk with the contractor. He can feel his veins pulse and his Alpha eyes glow he's so livid. The contractor had apologized profusely and sent his people to quarantine the damaged area. But that didn't feel like enough. Derek wanted  _ blood _ . He could feel his body slowly heal his cuts but the biggest gash continued to ooze drops of his blood. 

He peels the tattered shirt off and looks in the mirror to inspect his injuries. The gash is deeper than he thought and he should probably get to the hospital to get it cleaned out but the thought just makes his fury more palpable. He gets undressed and heads to the private shower in his office. 

The pressure and heat of the water do nothing to ease the tension in his shoulders. Derek dries off and wraps gauze and bandages around his trim waist, hoping his wound heals soon so he doesn't get home and worry his mate. 

As the day goes on, Derek's thoughts get angrier and darker. He yells and barks at his employees, the incompetent morons can't follow simple instructions. He never realized he'd hired useless drones. He can't handle the stupidity and decides to go home. 

He barks at Noah to close up when he clocks out and heads home. 

  
  


For once, Stiles feels like he has a handle on his day. He left school without a single assignment to grade, dinner is on the stove, Conor and Teddy are at the table doing homework, and Natalia is in the living room watching tv with the twins. The house is calm.

Leaning back against the counter, Stiles takes in the scene of domesticity and tranquility. He thinks back to the past weekend when he and Derek and the kids snuggled up in the living room and watched ELF. They'd already decorated the Christmas tree, and it was twinkling merrily in the corner. 

The front door slammed, startling Stiles out of his reverie.

“We’re in the kitchen, baby!” he called.

“Hey,” Derek grunts as he throws his duffle bag on the floor and makes his way to the kitchen. For a moment, seeing his family relieves some of the tension he's felt all day. His kids are doing homework or watching TV and his omega-mate is making dinner. It's everything Derek ever wanted. 

“You're home early,” he comments as he walks by Teddy and Conor, and ruffles their hair. He leans forward to place a kiss on Stiles’ cheek. “What's for dinner?”

Stiles turns his head for a more proper kiss. “Got finished earlier than I expected, so I grabbed the kids and came home. How was your day?”

“Don't fucking ask,” Derek steps away, feeling the rage he felt earlier come crashing back. “The contractors didn't close off the construction zone. Noah and I were walking through it when the fucking ceiling fucking falls and almost kills my fucking assistant. Today, of fucking course, all my fucking employees decide to show me how fucking incompetent they all are.” 

Derek is breathing heavily by the time he finishes his rant, can feel his muscles tense and his eyes flashing red. There's perspiration surfacing on his skin with the effort he's making to stay in control. To not lash out at Stiles or the kids. He glares at his fiancé, daring him to say anything about his day. 

Stiles is wide-eyed by the time Derek finishes his tirade. He's seen his mate upset, but he usually controls it better than this in front of the kids.

Glancing at Conor and Teddy who are staring at them, Stiles rubs a calming hand down Derek’s bicep. “Baby, why don't you go take a shower while I put dinner on the table?”

Derek pulls back harshly and turns his glare towards Stiles. “Don't fucking patronize me, Stiles!”

Stunned, Stiles crosses his arms over his chest and takes a step away from Derek. “Hey, what's with the attitude? Fine, stay in the kitchen with your anger, but you can shut your mouth.”

Seething, Derek crowds Stiles against the cabinets, “what did you say to me?” Derek’s voice comes it more menacingly than he expected but Stiles is treating him like he would one of his students. Derek is  _ an adult. _ He's the  _ alpha _ of this house. His body feels larger, and he can feel sweat trickling down his spine. His anger is overheating his skin and he can feel himself starting to lose control. 

Now more angry than afraid, his biological defence for his young kicking in, Stiles grinds out through clenched teeth, “You better take two big fucking steps away from me right now, Derek.” He knows Conor’s sensitive ears will pick up his words no matter how softly he says them, but Derek is pushing him way too far right now. 

Derek can feel his face shift, his control slipping more and more with every defiant word from Stiles’ mouth. “ _ I'm you're fucking alpha! _ ” His fingers sting with the growth of his claws, now digging into the granite countertops. A part of his brain is screaming at him to back off, knows he doesn't mean what he's saying but he can't help it. Rage and loathing are like a physical entity coursing through his veins, infecting every inch of his soul. 

Stiles presses his face into Derek’s personal space until they are nearly nose to nose. He doesn't understand what sort of mood his mate has come home in, but he isn't going to stand idly by and let Derek pull his “I'm the Alpha” bullshit. 

“You may be my  _ Alpha _ , but you are not my  _ Master. _ ”

Derek growls, and his love for Stiles is stronger than the rage for just a moment. He grabs the Vitamix and hurls it across the room, breaking the expensive blender in pieces, needing to hurt and destroy. 

He's pulled away from Stiles, smashing part of the counter. He's mindless rage and he's trying to find an outlet that isn't his mate or his family. He can feel his heart pumping hard, the veins in his muscles thick and bulging. He's anger personified and ready to cause destruction. 

“GET OUT!” Stiles screams at the top of his lungs. “Get out! Get out!” He grabs the only thing at hand--the wooden spoon he’d been mixing with--and raised it at Derek. “Get out of my house so help me god. I don't know who you are or what you've done with my mate, but you are  _ not _ going to behave like this in front of my children.” Moving his body so that he's blocking the entrance than will take Derek past the boys, Stiles says to Conor, “Go get your siblings and take them upstairs. Lock them in your room.  _ Do not  _ open the door for anyone but me.”

Conor looks understandably worried. “Mom, what about--”

“ _ Go. _ ”

“This is  _ my _ house, little omega,” he growls, feeling the spittle of his words splatter down his chin. His teeth have elongated, making it difficult to form words. “ _ Those _ are  _ my _ children. If you want me gone,  _ WHY DON’T YOU GO?!” _

Behind them, Stiles hears Conor dragging the little ones upstairs. His heart is hammering against his ribcage. As much as he can't believe his eyes, whatever this creature in front of him is, it's not  _ Derek _ . Keeping his eyes on the thing that looks like his mate, Stiles backs slowly into the hall. Hands shaking, he reaches for the door to the closet.

“ _ Don't fucking walk away from me! _ ” Derek roars as he grabs another appliance and slams it against the floor. Derek can feel his tank top stick to his sweat, the liquid and fabric stinging his gash. 

Whirling around, Stiles prays the creature will be distracted with destroying his kitchen long enough to retrieve the gun he'd hoped he'd never have to use. His dad had given it to him “just in case.” Never in Stiles’s wildest dreams did he imagine he'd have to use it against Derek--or something that looked like Derek. 

The shaking had spread to the rest of his body by the time Stiles managed to cock and raise the gun. He wasn't as fast as he'd been at the range, but this was not practice. His voice when he spoke again, however, was deadly calm. “I'm not going to tell you again. Get the fuck. Out of my house.” 

“ _ My _ house!  _ My _ house, Omega.  _ My. Fucking. House _ ! If you're so fucking eager to get away from me,  _ then get the fuck out _ ,” he tells from the kitchen, the semi-rational part of his brain not letting him follow Stiles and instead grabbing appliance after appliance to soothe his rage. His heart feels like it's going to explode in his chest, his muscles feel larger than his skin; he's not sure what is happening but he's lost all sense of control. 

With not-Derek distracted in the kitchen, Stiles booked it for the stairs. He knocked as softly as possible on the bedroom door so as to not arouse the monster’s attention. “Conor? Baby, it’s Mommy, let me in.” 

The lock turns and one suspicious green eye appears between the door and the jam.

“Let me in, baby.”

Conor opens the door.

Stiles steps through and quickly locks the door behind him. “Are you okay? Are you guys okay?” The twins are clinging to Teddy, Natalia is clutching a pillow in the corner, and Conor hovers nervously amongst them.

“Okay, good, good.” Hands still trembling, he sets the gun down on the floor with the barrel pointed away from his children and fishes his cellphone out of his pocket. Knowing his dad will get the message, Stiles dials 911.

Derek looks around the kitchen, it looks worse than the construction zone at the gym but he doesn't care. His body is starting to feel numb and he's having difficulty breathing. His vision is starting to have black spots and his legs are feeling weak. He slides his body down behind the island and stares up at the ceiling. His chest is tight, his heart simultaneously beating too fast and not fast enough. He can hardly see around him any more, and his breathing feels restricted. The last thing he thinks of before he passes out is how much he hates himself most of all. 

  
  


Stiles hears the sound of sirens outside the house. “It’s okay guys,” he says, trying to calm his children. “That means grandpa is here.” The sounds of banging have stopped from the kitchen, but Stiles is too afraid to go downstairs. 

They hear the obligatory “POLICE!” from downstairs, and a moment later the door opens. 

“Derek? Stiles?” the sheriff calls. 

Stiles doesn’t respond. 

Several long minutes pass, then there’s the sound of footsteps on the stairs. “Stiles?” his dad’s voice calls out again. 

“Don’t move,” Stiles whispers to Conor. He disentangles himself from his children, grabs the gun, and opens the door. 

“Son?” John says cautiously as he sees Stiles with the pistol John himself gave Stiles so long ago. “I brought my deputies, Stiles. Can you let me in?”

Stiles nods. He steps back and allows his father to squeeze into the room, though he still has the urge to stand between the outsider and his children. 

John sees how scared his son is, and his grandchildren are holding hands and watching their mother. “What happened, Stiles,” John whispers, trying to soothe Stiles’ skittishness.

Shaking his head, Stiles tries and fails to speak several times. “Conor,” he says finally. “Not in here.” 

Knowing he's safe with his father, Stiles leads the man back into the hall and shuts the door. “Derek . . . He came home, but it wasn't him. He just . . . Went nuts, for lack of a better word. He starting screaming and shouting and throwing things. I told Conor to bring the kids upstairs, then I got the gun and followed them.” Stiles swallows around the lump in his throat. “Did you arrest him?”

John nods, listening and trying to fit what he saw in the kitchen to Stiles’ story. Derek was passed out cold, his body pale and sickly, a sheen of sweat glistening off his skin making it appear chalky and dead. “Did he hurt you or the kids?” He avoids the question, waiting for the sirens of the ambulance he called to come and check on his son in law. 

“No.” A shaking hand skates over his face. “I mean, he scared the kids and fucking terrified me.” Stiles blows out a breath. “I'm worried that's not Derek… like it's some.. shape shifter or some other crazy shit that shows up in this fucked up town.”

“Okay,” John slowly lifts his arm to place a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. Part of it is to reassure Stiles that it's going to be okay and reassure himself that he can help. That in some ways, Stiles still  _ needs _ him. “I need you to take a deep breath for me, okay?”

Stiles nods. It takes a conscious effort to inhale and exhale. “There. Did you arrest Derek?”

“I've called an ambulance,” he evades again. “Why don't we go back in that room and get the kids dressed so you guys can stay at home with Melissa and me?” He tries to put his best “I’m a cop and want to help” face. 

Stiles crosses his arms over his chest. “I'm not leaving. I'm not running. Not now and certainly not from Derek. He can leave. I told him that and pissed him off.”

“Okay, son. I know you're angry and scared but there seems to be more to what's happened than we know. I found Derek in your kitchen floor, hardly breathing and unconscious. We're waiting for the ambulance to get here, but it doesn't look good. One of my deputies is watching over him right now.” He looks at Stiles, his son -not even thirty and a mother to five children, “I really think the kids shouldn't see him like this. And someone should be with you if he doesn't make it.”

“Oh my god.” Stiles’s knees buckle as the words register.  _ If he doesn't make it... _

*

_ Two weeks later _

The sound of machines beeping startle Derek awake. His eyelids feel heavy, and his mind feels sluggish. He tries to blink but the lighting is too harsh for his sensitive eyes. He makes a noise, a cross between a groan of pain and confusion. He feels a warm hand on his forearm but his brain isn't able to process who's touching him. His muscles twitch with the effort to move but he can't. 

His tongue feels heavy and his throat is dry. He's never felt like this before, and he wonders if this is what humans experience as a hangover. He's heard Stiles complain enough about it. 

Finally his eyes open and all he sees are white walls, white ceilings, and a bed that's not his own. “Stiles?”

  
  


As he'd done nearly every day for the last two weeks, Stiles was sound asleep in the chair next to Derek’s bed. He was dreaming about something not all together pleasant when he heard his name. He startled so hard that he toppled the chair and wound up on the floor.

“Derek?”

Stiles didn't bother righting the chair; he clutched the edge of the bed and pulled himself up. “Baby?” He'd worried endlessly that he'd never hear his name on those lips again. 

Derek’s eyes widen at the look on Stiles’ face. He has dark circles under his eyes and his hair is disheveled. Derek reaches out and traces a finger down Stiles’ cheek. He tries to talk, to ask what is going on but his parched throat doesn't allow for it. He coughs and it hurts. He feels his eyes water, and he's starting to panic. 

“Shh, baby, it's okay.” Stiles’s eyes start to water. His hand shakes as he reaches for the water pitcher. “Don't try to talk, okay? I'm gonna call the nurse.” 

While they wait, Stiles prattles about how Derek has been in a medically-induced coma at Deaton’s insistence. With the Sheriff’s and Melissa’s help, they'd managed to keep most of the doctors and nurses at bay. Derek had been poisoned by wolfsbane from the cut on his back. “...our best guess is that it came from the paint.” He squeezes Derek’s hand tightly. “I was so afraid I was going to lose you.” 

Derek listens and can't help the shame he feels at how he reacted. He keeps his eyes on their linked hands, wondering how Stiles could even stand to be in the room with him. “Did I. . .” He trails, clearing his throat, “did I hurt you? The kids?”

“No. No.” Stiles shakes his head forcefully. He lifts their joined hands to his lips and speaks against Derek’s knuckles. “The kids are fine. They're at my dad’s. They just want you back, Derek.” Stiles blinks and the tears fall down his cheeks. 

The smell of tears hits Derek like a freight train to the heart and he pulls Stiles towards him, urging him to get on the bed with him. He watches as Stiles throws himself at Derek, clinging to him the same way Derek is clinging to him. 

“Stiles,” Derek whispers into Stiles’ hair. “Baby, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.” He repeats over and over again. “I'm sorry I scared you and the kids. I would never-” he chokes off on a sob. “I would never hurt you.”

“It's not your fault,” Stiles snuffles. “It was an accident.” 

“I should have gotten it checked out,” Derek argues. “I should  _ know _ better. I put you and our children at risk.”

Melissa’s entrance to the room cuts off Stiles’s reply. “Derek,” she says brightly. “Good to see you awake. How are you feeling?” As she talks, she checks various machines and drips and makes notes on his chart.

“Like I pummeled an entire kitchen to the ground,” Derek says shamefully. 

Stiles pushes himself up off the bed. “Fuck the kitchen. We can buy more shit.”

“Well, it looks like the saline drip has worked the majority of the wolfsbane out of your system.” Melissa turns his hand over and looks pointedly at the pale grey lines of his veins still indicating wolfsbane. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” Derek lies. He doesn't want it to hurt, he doesn't want any visible evidence of what he did. “When will I be able to go home?”

Melissa ignores the question. She presses down with two fingers and elicits the wince she was looking for. “That depends. You've only just woken up. Your body needs to heal, Derek.”

“It's healing,” he scowls. “I need to fix things at home. See my children. I. . .” Derek breathes hard and feels his chest tighten. 

“Der.” Stiles lays a hand on Derek’s arm. “It's 3 a.m. I'll bring the kids by tomorrow after school. Please don't fight.”

“I,” Derek takes a deep breath. “I'm sorry,” he lowers his eyes. “I didn't mean to fight. I'm sorry.”

Melissa bends down and kisses his forehead. “Get some sleep, kid. I'll be back at the end of my shift.” She leaves and closes the door behind her.

Stiles sits down on the edge of Derek’s bed. “I was so worried about you.” 

“I'm sorry,” Derek stares at the ceiling, feeling the tears fall down his cheeks. “For everything,” he looks at Stiles and Derek can't believe how much he loves this man. “I don't deserve you, Stiles. Whatever you want to happen after this,” he swallows hard, “I won't fight it. I love you too much.”

“What I want to happen?” Brows drawing together, Stiles wipes at the tears on Derek’s cheeks. “Baby, I want you to get better so you can come home. It's all we talk about. Conor got mad the other night because I wouldn't let him sleep here. I only bring the kids here every other day. My dad tried to get me to stay home on those days, but I've stayed here every night. I can't leave you here all alone. We just don't want you focusing on anything other than your health right now.” 

“How are you not afraid of me? How are  _ they _ not afraid of me? I terrorized my family.” The tears come faster, it's like the floodgates have opened and he can't help it. 

“Derek, you were  _ drugged _ .” Knowing nothing else is going to get through, Stiles stands up. With a huff, he tugs his sleep pants and boxers down enough to show Derek the mating bite scar he left on Stiles’s skin. 

Stiles takes Derek’s hand--his left, the one with his ring--and presses it against the mark. “Baby, this doesn't go away. Our family doesn't go away. I talked to the kids, and they understand that you were drugged. The twins don't understand as well as the boys and Natalia, I'm sure, but they know you were sick and not yourself. Besides, the little ones only really heard us shouting.” 

Derek traces the scar, watches in awe as goosebumps rise on Stiles’ skin. It's not a sexual touch. It's comfort and love. A representation of their bond. “Would you hold me?” He asks with his hand by Stiles’ thigh. 

“You don't even have to ask.” Stiles jerks his pants back up. He squeezes into the bed beside Derek and pulls him close. “How's this?”

“It's everything,” Derek snuggles closer. “Have I really been here for two weeks?”

Stiles nods against Derek’s collarbone. “Mmhmm. And I've been here every night.” 

“I really don't deserve you,” Derek places a kiss on Stiles’ forehead. “Tell me about the kids,” he says as he plays with Stiles’ hair, massaging his mate’s scalp. He can smell the lingering anxiety on Stiles’ skin and it makes his wolf antsy. He wants to fix it, but he can still feel the effects of the wolfsbane lingering in his system.

Stiles smiles against his mate’s skin. “They’ll be glad to know their dad is gonna make it. It was pretty touch and go for a while. I think Conor’s taken it the hardest because he knows what's going on. The twins only really understand that Daddy’s very sick. Teddy and Talia have been asking a lot of questions I can't answer because they always thought you couldn't get sick. They'll be climbing over each other to see you.”

Derek smiles thinking of how crazy they must have been driving Stiles. And then a wave of guilt hits him harder than he imagined. He pulls Stiles closer and places kisses in his hair, his forehead. “I'll make this up to all of you,” he whispers softly. 

“Just come home.” Stiles exhales in a sigh. “That's all we want.”

*

“Mr. Stilinski, I hope you slept well.” Deaton moves around the room, checking vitals and monitors. 

With a snort, Stiles jerks awake. He'd fallen asleep with his upper body on the bed and his ass in the chair. He was going to need to see a chiropractor after this. “Derek woke up last night.”

“Yes.” Deaton turns to look at Stiles. “His body still needs to flush out the poison. How're you?” Deaton moves around the bed to fully face the omega. “I think it's time for you to get some rest. Derek's recovery will be stressful enough without sleep.”

Stiles groans and wipes at his eyes. “What time is it? Did Melissa leave yet?”

“Melissa’s shift has ended and I instructed her to go home. I'm quite capable of checking in on Mr. Hale.” 

Derek shifts on the bed with a groan. “When can I leave?” He grumbles under his breath, smelling Deaton in the room. 

“Have you walked around, Mr. Hale?” Deaton responds mildly. 

“No,” Derek glares. “It was late and I had to talk to Stiles. But I can do that now.” He sits up and fights the nausea that comes with the headrush, and falls back onto the pillows. “Well, fuck.”

Instantly, Stiles is awake. “Easy, baby. It's not a race.” He places a hand on Derek’s arm. 

“What's next, Deaton?” Derek glares at the doctor. 

“I'll send in a meal for you and we will see how that goes,” Deaton says as he calls for the nurse on staff. “Mr. Stilinski, why don't you get yourself something, too.” Deaton leaves the room to update the nurses on Derek's condition. The werewolf should be discharged soon after all. 

Stiles makes a face at Deaton’s back.

“Hospital food is the worst. How about you choke it down to appease him while I go snatch Conor from school and bring back something decent to eat?” 

The thought of Conor seeing him after everything that's happened, of looking at his son makes Derek's insides churn. “Um,” Derek clears his throat. “Okay, sure,” he tries for casual. Logically he knows Stiles is coming back but the fear is still there. It doesn't help that Derek knows he doesn't deserve the omega. No matter the excuse, he put his family in danger and that's unforgivable. 

Derek sits up against the pillows and watches Stiles put himself together. “You look handsome,” Derek tries to grin, lighten the mood in some way. Stiles’ hair is in disarray and his clothes are wrinkled but he's still beautiful, desirable. 

“You're ridiculous.” Stiles smiles. “I need a shower and I haven't changed clothes in two days. But I appreciate the sentiment.” He leans down and presses a kiss against Derek’s forehead. “What do you want to eat? Probably all I can get the nurses to send up is jello, though.”

“Cherry flavored jello,” Derek grimaces. “It's the one that tastes the least processed.” Derek stares at Stiles as he makes his way to the door of the hospital room. “You'll be back, right?” He can't help but ask. 

Stiles’s heart breaks in his chest at the look on Derek’s face. He crosses to the bed in a few quick strides and kisses Derek again. “Of course. In fact . . .” Taking Derek’s left hand in his and he tugs his mate’s wedding ring off. The only finger on his own hand that  it will fit on is his thumb, but it works. “In fact, you can have that back  _ when  _ I get back here with our spawn. How's that?”

Derek swallows the lump in his thrust. He nods, unable to say anything else. He doesn't detect any malice or betrayal, and Stiles’ heartbeat was steady. But that niggle at the back of his mind continues to feed his doubt and self-loathing.  _ Maybe Stiles took back the ring as a good-bye _ it whispers to him. 

Stiles leaves with a smile on his face and Derek is left to wonder if they could recover from this. The nurse comes in with his jello and what she calls chicken broth. She flirts a little with Derek and the attention makes him uncomfortable and the fact that she's not respecting his mating makes him angry. He growls his thanks and she skitters away.

  
  


Melissa walks in half an hour later. “How're you feeling, kiddo?” 

Her warmth and attention makes Derek both uncomfortable and loved in a way his mother could no longer show him. “The jello helped,” he can't help the smile he gives her. “Is Stiles back?”

Melissa ruffles Derek’s hair and sits on the edge of the bed. She notices the chicken soup has been untouched and she lifts it to feed to him. “John called to say he stopped by the station for a late lunch.” Derek knows how much Stiles enjoyed taking his father his meals, and nods his understanding. 

He watches Melissa look at him expectantly. “I can feed myself,” he grumbles but opens his mouth to receive the spoonful of soup. He finishes the soup at Melissa’s insistence. 

“You know none of this is your fault,” she tells him as she brushes locks of his hair away from his forehead. “You're a good man, Derek. I know you feel guilty but there was nothing you could have done.”

Derek listens and stares. He doesn't know why but he pushes forward and hugs her tightly. “Thank you,” he whispers as the door bursts open. 

Conor blows into the room like a miniature hurricane. “DADDY!” his little voice shouts. Behind him, Stiles is saying, “Gentle, Conor! Daddy’s healing!” 

He stops at the bed and holds up Derek’s ring. It looks huge in his tiny hand. “Mommy told me to give this to you.”

Stiles comes to a stop behind their son and holds up a brown bag. “I brought your favourite. Steak burger with a side of mashed potatoes. I would have been back sooner, but I stopped at the station to tell my dad you were awake and take him some lunch, too,” He leans down for a kiss. “Told you I'd be back.” 

Derek kisses Stiles back, grabbing his shirt to pull him closer. He hears his boy trying to climb on the bed and, it takes effort but he pulls away from Stiles, helps his son pull himself up. 

“Conor,” Derek holds Conor’s hand. He doesn't want to know what his son has to say but his baby boy deserves answers. 

“I'm sorry, Con,” he says softly. 

Conor’s face pinches in deep concentration. “For what?”

Derek pulls Stiles closer and doesn't care that Melissa or anyone else is there to watch him break down. “For scaring you. And hurting mommy.” Derek caress Conor’s face and watches as his little boy nuzzles into his hand. 

“But you didn't scare me. Or hurt Mommy. You're the one who’s sick. That's why you're in the hospital, Daddy.”

“You're so smart,” Derek says with a small laugh. 

“Your dad should be able to go home soon, Conor,” Melissa tells her grandson. 

To Derek she says, “okay, sleeping beauty, let's get you walking around.” 

Derek glares at the nickname but moves to get off the bed. Conor is sitting in his spot in the bed and Stiles is hovering next to him. He sits there for a moment to try to get his bearings. He stands on shaky legs and grabs on to the IV pole for support. “Okay,” he says to no one in particular. 

He walks around the room and he's feeling better than he thought he would. “This isn't so bad,” he looks at Melissa. “Does this mean I can go home?”

Stiles and Conor also look at her. Stiles says, “He  _ is  _ a werewolf. Supernaturally fast healing.”

Derek winks at Stiles and walks back to bed to cuddle with his son. “I think I'm ready to go. What do you think, Con?”

“Please, Grammy? Can Dad come home?” Conor gives Melissa his most pleading look.

“I'll go call Deaton and I don't see why not,” Melissa leaves soon after. 

“So,” Derek starts. “Will we be able to go home or is the damage too severe?” 

“I mean you're up and walking, so should be fine. I guess as long as you don't feel faint.” 

It takes a moment for Derek to understand and he smiles at his mate. “I meant at home.”

It takes a minute for Derek’s words to click. “Everything's cleaned up. Don't worry about it.” Stiles ruffles Conor’s hair. “You wanna make Christmas cookies if Dad is up to it?”

“Yes!”

“Great.” Conor’s enthusiasm is contagious and for the first time since he woke up, he feels relieved. “We can make cookies and maybe have a movie fort?” He looks at Stiles for confirmation. 

Stiles squeezes Derek’s hand. “Anything you want, baby.”

*

They wheel Derek to the car--”Hospital policy”--despite his groans. When they enter the house, though, there's a stampede of little feet and a chorus of “Daddy!” Stiles can only watch and try to stem their excitement so they don't put Derek back in the hospital. “Easy, guys!” he shouts over the din.

“It's fine,” Derek tells Stiles as he kneels down and opens his arms for his kids. “I've missed you,” he tells them all. Remy is trying to clamber over Teddy, and Derek is afraid he's going to fall. “Mommy said we get a movie fort night. Right, babe?” He stands up slowly, making sure the kids are okay. 

Stiles grabs Remy and parks the boy on his hip. He's too heavy to hold for very long any more, but hopefully it will keep him occupied. “Absolutely.”

His dad appears in the doorway, and Stiles gives him a grateful smile. “Have they eaten?”

“Grandpa made sketties!” Lucy says as she claps her hands together. 

“And it looks like you still have some on your chin.” Stiles puts Remy down and wipes at Lucy’s face. She cries out, weasels away, and clings to Derek’s leg.

John,” Derek says warily. He lifts Lucy easily and nuzzles her cheek. “Thank you for helping Stiles with the kids,” He trails off as he feels Natalia pull on his pant leg. He lifts her up, too. “And for getting me to the hospital,” he finishes. 

“Of course.” John cleared his throat. “I'm glad you're okay, kid. It's been a rough couple of weeks.”

Derek nods and tries to walk into the living room but each of his kids are attached to him. “Come on, guys. Let's go to the sofa, okay?” 

Derek watches as Teddy, Conor, and Remy run towards the couch and scramble their way on. Lucy and Talia wiggle their way down his body to join their siblings. There's no room for him on the couch with the kids all on it and he makes this known but his kids aren't having it. They wiggle and rearrange themselves in a coordinated dance Derek has never seen from them and they create a space for Derek in the middle. 

Derek sits carefully, stretching his arms out to scent and touch each of his kids. “What about mommy?” 

“Mommy sits on lap,” Talia says next to Teddy. 

“No!” Lucy yells and crawls over Conor and Remy to get on Derek's lap. “Mine,” Lucy mumbles as she nuzzles into Derek's chest. Derek kisses her hair and looks up at Stiles who's fighting tears. It startles Derek and he's torn between going to Stiles and staying as close as he can to his kids. 

“Stiles?” He calls out, hoping Stiles will get closer. 

“I'm okay.” Stiles sniffles and wipes his eyes. “I'm right here, baby.” He takes a seat on the floor and lays his head on Derek’s thigh. 

Lucy pats his head. “Good Mommy.”

Derek laughs and cuddles Lucy closer before placing her between himself and Conor. He pulls Stiles up to sit on his lap. He grins when Stiles protests and they wrestle a little until Stiles concedes and snuggles closer. 

He startles when a throats clears loudly and he looks at his father in law sheepishly. “Sir,” Derek calls out. “Sit with us. We're going to watch a movie and order some pizza.” He side eyes Stiles before he looks at John with a smirk, “meat lovers,” he clarifies. 

Shaking his head, John takes a seat in the recliner. Almost immediately, he's rewarded with a lap full of Lucy and Remy. He wraps his arms around his grandchildren. “You guys want pizza?”

The resounding cry is enough to shatter his eardrums, but he laughs anyway. 

*

Derek is in the shower while Stiles and John put the kids to bed. They'd stayed up earlier than they're used to. The events from the day making it difficult to get the kids to go to sleep, and Derek had been scared to not have his kids near him. He couldn't believe what had happened, or how he'd behaved with Stiles and in front of his children. 

Logically, he knew it wasn't him. It was the strain of wolfsbane that triggered rage, but it had still been his body and his family that were the target. He would have a lot of apologizing and groveling to do. And that's why he allowed the kids to stay up late. To indulge them and hope any remaining fear of him would be gone. 

He walks out of his shower in a daze, naked and dripping through the bedroom floor. He feels a bone deep exhaustion even though he'd been  _ asleep _ for two weeks, it was a lingering sense of wrong. He dressed in old sweats and a soft Henley, a stark difference to what he usually wore to bed (which was nothing). 

Derek sat on his side of the bed, smelling the stale stench of tears, despair, and fear. His wolf howls and thrashes, wanting to obliterate whoever caused it's mate emotional pain. Too bad it was Derek himself, unintentionally, but nonetheless there. It's present in the the bags under his omega’s eyes, his sharp cheekbones. The smell of exhaustion and overwrought emotions swirling around like sewage down the grates. 

Derek doesn't know how to fix this. How to make it better for Stiles and erase the events that have occurred these past two weeks. He doesn't know, but he'll try his fucking hardest to make it up to a Stiles. 

Derek is so lost in thought, he doesn't realize Stiles is present until the bed dips next to him. He opens his eyes to look at Stiles. Beautiful and vulnerable as he kneels and watches Derek closely. 

“Hey,” Derek croaks in a rough voice. He longs to reach out and touch him but he doesn't know if it's allowed.  _ If it's wanted _ . His hands twitch with the need but he remains still. Watching Stiles and waiting for him. 

“Hey yourself.” Stiles cocks his head to the side, and a smile creeps across his face. He leans in for a kiss, but frowns when Derek turns his head. “What? What's wrong?” He's waited weeks for his mate to come home, they had a wonderful night with the family, and now they get some alone time.

“You look so tired, baby,” Derek tries to soothe. He lifts his hand to run his fingers down Stiles’ sunken cheeks. “I'm so sorry I put you through all this.”

Stiles covers the hand with one of his own. “I told you before it's not your fault.” He turns his head to press a kiss into the middle of Derek’s palm. His dark eyes catch Derek’s gaze. “I want you to make love to me.” 

“Stiles. . .” Derek is battling his guilt and his need to have Stiles close. To feel his touch, his smell, his wet heat. He wants it all but he doesn't know if he can trust himself. “I don't know if that's a good idea. I don't want to hurt you.”

The acidic scent of rejection is strong and it makes Derek feel like a worthless alpha. “I want you, baby. I  _ always _ want you. Come here,” he whispers as he pulls Stiles astride Derek’s legs. 

Derek frames his face and kisses his cheeks. His temple. His nose. And leaves a lingering kiss on Stiles’ lips. “Can we,” Derek leans forward to rub his roughened cheek against the smooth skin of Stiles’ neck. “Can we take it slow?”

“Always, baby. Of course. And we don't have to make love tonight; I just can't stand to see that kicked puppy look on your face. No offence.”

Derek gives Stiles a mock glare. “Dog jokes. Was I in a coma so long we traveled back a decade?” 

“Would you prefer I call you my old man?” Laughing, Stiles pulls Derek down onto the bed. With the way they've fallen, Stiles is on top. He frames Derek with his arms, staring down at the man he loves more than life itself. 

“I’d prefer it if you just called me yours,” Derek whispers as he stares up at his mate, the mother of his children, the love of his life. 

The relief Stiles had been feeling at having Derek home nearly gave way to tears. “You are mine, baby.” He drops his head to Derek’s shoulder. All the emotion he had been holding back for two weeks breaks through, and he finds himself suddenly sobbing against his mate. 

“Oh, Stiles,” Derek’s voice cracks as he holds Stiles closer. “I love you, Stiles. I’m so sorry,” Derek feels the tears slide down his face as Stiles lets out all the pain and frustration of the past weeks. It makes Derek feel worse, to watch and feel how much Stiles is losing it. “Baby,” Derek pulls Stiles to him, trying to fuse them together and in a swift move, he flips them around so Derek is bracketing his mate.

“Hey, baby,” Derek soothes, sliding his nose up Stiles’ cheeks and kissing the tears that continue to fall. “Baby, look at me,” Derek whispers into Stiles’ tear soaked skin. “ _ Please.” _

Trembling, Stiles forces his eyes to open. “Please don't apologise,” he says. “I've spent the last two weeks thinking about how I'm going to raise five children by myself, and I am just  _ relieved  _  to have you home.” He wipes at his eyes and forces a smile. “I'm fine, really.” 

“I wouldn’t ever willingly leave you alone,” he hesitates as he sees how brittle Stiles’ smile is. “I’m here now thanks to you and your dad. I should have known the signs, should have gotten myself checked as soon as those beams fell on us.” 

Stiles shakes his head. “Please don't. I don't want to think about that anymore. You're home, and that's the only thing that matters.”

Derek smiles down at Stiles, and leans down to rub his nose along Stiles’ collarbone, scenting his mate. It’s weird to smell Stiles with a strong mixture of Derek mixed in. “I promise,” Derek murmurs against the delicate skin of Stiles’ throat. “I promise to take better care of myself.” He nips at the skin, a primal part of him urging to mark. “I’m here, baby. I’ll take care of you.”

Derek leans back to look at Stiles. “I love you more than anything.” He leans down and kisses Stiles, trying to put everything he’s feeling in that kiss. It’s love and passion, longing and yearning, possession and desire, all mixed together. 

Derek pulls back and rolls himself off his mate. He snuggles closer to his mate, pillowing Stiles’ head on his bicep, Derek leaves a kiss on Stiles’ forehead. “Love you, baby. I am yours and you are mine. You and the kids mean everything to me.” He nuzzles closer, feeling the tendrils of sleep overtaking him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


	9. Rehearsal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Derek rehearse for their wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys! I'm so sorry this update is so late. Arver and I have actually been working on the next project in this series and we got a little sidetracked. The next thing coming up is Conor's story. We decided we want to do sort of side stories for each of the kids, and Conor's takes place about 10 years from now. It's totally sweet and lovely, and we plan on posting it VERY SOON. (We have literally probably 50k of it written, but there's spoilers and it's a lot of work to put it into a readable format, so.) Just know it's coming. ♥

Frowning, Stiles shakes his head. “No, no, that's not right. I'm not trying to sound like a diva here, but we asked for yellow, and this is green.” He tries to make the statement sound like a question. Even someone colorblind shouldn't confuse yellow and green, and they weren't colours that could be confused, easily or otherwise. 

The woman in front of him stares down at the table runners like she's never seen a table before. “Well, you can't deny that it's a beautiful color.” To emphasize her point, she ran a hand over the lime-green fabric. 

Stiles silently counts to ten before replying. He is about to lose his temper, and that wouldn't do any of them any good. “My wedding is in 48 hours. We’re paying you--good money, might I add--and we asked for buttercream yellow. These are electric green. While some people may appreciate their especially verdant hue, I can assure you that they will clash horribly with the rest of my baby blue decorations.” 

“I'm sure we can come to some sort of . . . “ 

The rest of her pacifying statement is drowned out by the sound of Stiles’s ringtone. At the sight of Derek’s contact picture (really, it was a picture of Stiles kissing Derek’s cheek), he wants to cry tears of relief.

“Baby, the table runners are green.”

“What?” 

“Green.” He takes a deep breath to gain control of himself. “Not even a little green, either. They’re lime green. And Dawn doesn’t seem to think it matters and the wedding is in two days and our rehearsal is tomorrow, and I don’t know what to do. Baby, I know you’re at work, but can you please come down here?” 

“Stiles,” Derek starts, unsure of what to say. He knows how important it has been for his fiancé to be involved in the wedding planning process. A feat, Derek is pretty sure has irritated their well-paid wedding planner. But he can hear the tremulous tone in Stiles’ voice, the slight hitch in his breath that signals to anyone that knows him he's going to think himself into a panic attack. 

“Babe, take a deep breath. Tell Dawn she has twenty minutes to produce the color you asked for. That's enough time for me to get there. Okay?” Derek asks as he takes his keys and walks out of the gym. 

“Stiles?” He calls out worriedly when the omega doesn't respond. 

“I’m here.” Forcibly, Stiles pulls his gaze away from the god-awful green table runners. “Thank you. I know you’ve got like fifty people down at Hale Nation right now, and I absolutely didn’t want to pull you away, but this is just so aggravating because we spe--” 

“It's fine.” Derek starts he car. “Baby, don't cry. I'm on my way already. She now has 16 minutes to get us the colors we paid for. Do you want to stay on the phone with me or do you want me to hang up?” 

As much as he wanted to keep his mate’s voice in his ear, he also knew how dangerous it was to drive and talk at the same time. Plus, he had to try to deal with Dawn before Derek got there. “It’s okay. I’ll talk to Dawn, and . . . maybe I’ll just step outside or something until you get here. It’s hot in this building anyway.” Plucking at the t-shirt he’s wearing, he tries to fan some air onto his skin. 

“She has 13 minutes now. Let her know. I love you,” Derek tells him as he makes a sharp right turn to beat the changing traffic light. Trying to get to Stiles as fast as he can to avoid his impending panic. 

“I love you, too. Drive safe.” Stiles ends the call and slips his phone back into his pocket. Steeling his nerves, he walks over to where Dawn is conferring with one of her many assistants. “We asked for yellow table runners. I need these replaced in the next 12 minutes or you’re fired.” He almost doesn’t believe his own bluff, but he trusts that Derek will make good on the threat. 

“Marcy,” Dawn barks to one of the girls. “I told you yellow, not green. I need these replaced immediately.” She gives Stiles a tight smile and looks back down at her clipboard. 

Satisfied for the moment, Stiles walks back to the door in a few quick strides. He steps outside and inhales deeply. The warm summer air does little to cool him, but at least the breeze feels nice. He leans back against the brick of the building to wait for Derek. 

Derek parks the camaro haphazardly in the building lot and makes his way to the entrance. He can smell Stiles’ upset before he makes it to the door and it makes him growl. He hates when his mate is sad and angry, and Dawn will bend over backwards to fix it now. That's a guarantee. 

Derek walks in and finds Stiles leaning against the wall. “Baby?” Derek calls out, using a little more alpha authority than he was planning to. 

Lost in his thoughts, Stiles jumps at the sound of Derek’s voice, and then relaxes. He can feel the weight being lifted off his shoulders. It takes all his effort not to start crying in relief as Derek walks forward and embraces him. Stiles buries his face in the strong muscle of Derek’s shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he whispers. 

Derek’s strong arm is wrapped around Stiles’ waist, pulling him closer to nuzzle at his temple while Stiles buries his nose in Derek’s neck. “Always, babe. We're going to fix this, okay?” Derek reassures because he knows Dawn and her staff will be more than accommodating when they find out that all the mistakes and flaws in their work will be coming out of their salary and commission. 

Stiles nods and reluctantly lets his mate go. 

It's stereotypical, but Derek doesn't care about the colors or the flowers, but he knows this is important for his mate. He proposed for Stiles. He's going through this wedding for Stiles. And if he's not happy with what's being done, then Derek will step in and make those who caused his mate so much stress fix it. “Come on. Show me where Dawn is,” he says and then tilts his head to give Stiles a kiss. 

A comfortable heat floods Stiles’s body. Taking Derek by the hand, he leads him through the entry hall to a roomy banquet hall where Dawn and her assistants are busy changing out the green table runners for yellow. 

“What seems to be the problem, Dawn?” Derek asks sternly. 

“No problem,” Dawn replies brightly. “Just a miscommunication.” 

Her dismissal and her tone, irritate Derek even more. “Seems like more than miscommunication,” he growls. “Sounds like you tried to get your employer to compromise to your mistake.” 

The Alpha intimidates the beta in Dawn, and she lowers her eyes. “No misunderstanding was intended, Mr. Hale, I can assure you. My girls are fixing the problem as we speak. As you can see.” She gestures at the girls running around the room carrying armloads of fabric. 

“Stiles?” Derek calls out, silently asking Stiles to confirm or deny Dawn’s claim as he continues to glare at the beta. 

Feeling more confident with Derek at his side, Stiles crosses his arms over his chest. “Your exact words when I pointed out the mistake were, ‘It’s a beautiful color.’” 

Dawn falters, and she has no reply to that. 

“Right,” Derek growls, “the next time Stiles points out your mistakes, your next thought is how can I fix it for you, Sir. Do you understand, Dawn?” Derek tries to reign back his irritation but it's hard. Having Stiles so upset and the lingering effects of. . . the incident, leave Derek grumpy and angry. “This misunderstanding will be taken out of your commission. And I hope there are no further problems in the next two days.” 

There’s nothing else for her to say. “Yes, Sir. I can assure you we will be ready for your guests.” 

Derek grabs Stiles’ hand and interlocks their fingers together. “We will be back in three hours. I'm sure all this will be ready by then.” He says as he walks out with his mate, leaving no room for argument. 

Once outside, Stiles shoves Derek against the building and kisses him fiercely. “I love it when you get all growly and Alpha like that. Makes me horny.” 

Derek chuckles against Stiles’ lips, willing his arousal away. He knows Stiles has a chastity rule. Has had that fucking rule for the past two months, which means Derek hasn't had sex with anything but his hand in that long. Stiles’ lips on him, the smell of the omega’s arousal are driving him crazy. 

He growls, loudly and flips them around, pushing Stiles against the wall with a hand rubbing his election. The moan Stiles let's slip out is satisfying to his alpha instincts and he steps back. Leaving a small kiss at the corner of Stiles’ lips. 

“No sex, remember? As per your rule,” Derek emphasizes to drive his point at how ridiculous it is. They have five kids for fuck sake. The jig is up. 

Stiles pulls a face, but Derek’s right. Stupid self. Stupid his own rule. Belatedly, he realizes he said that outloud. “Yeah, I think this no-sex thing is making my brain turn to mush. Good thing we only have two more days to wait, right?” Now, time to go home and jerk off quickly in the shower before picking the kids up from school. He himself has taken the week of to prepare for the wedding. 

“Hmm, I was thinking we could go get your dumplings,” Derek muses out loud. 

Giggling madly, Stiles throws his arms around Derek’s neck. “That’s why I’m marrying you.” He inhales Derek’s scent and sighs in appreciation. “I love you so much.” 

“Oh really? I thought it was for the size of my co--” derek’s interrupted by the shrill ring of his phone. He glares at Stiles, knowing the younger man changed his settings again. 

“Yeah?” He answers, knowing it's probably Nate at the gym. 

While Nate drones on, Derek leads Stiles to their car and drives toward Stiles’ favorite Chinese restaurant. Derek can tell Stiles is vibrating with excitement. The last few weeks have been a series of elated and anxious moods, filled with what Stiles calls stress eating. He's been talking about soup dumplings for days and Derek figured after today, his mate deserved it. 

 

Stiles can hardly sleep that night. Sexual frustration coupled with anxiety about the wedding has him up at all hours of the morning. He shushes Derek back to sleep as he slips out of bed to check on the kids. 

Teddy and Conor, both of whom have recently been upgraded to their own bedrooms, are both sleeping peacefully. The former has managed to sprawl himself across the bed with the sheets twisted around his legs, so Stiles untangles them and tucks his boy back in. Conor, more mellow asleep and awake, is curled tightly into a ball. He looks like he hasn't moved since his parents tucked him in.

Natalia, who still shares a room with the twins, is fast asleep sucking her thumb. They've tried for years to break her of the habit, and they've heard countless opinions about how bad it is for her health, but nothing seems to work. Personally, Stiles doesn't care as long as his little girl is happy and well-adjusted. 

Lucy and Remy are curled up against one another. Stiles has always read that twins have a bond unlike any other, and it's going to break his heart when they have to separate them. For now, he kisses each of their little heads and closes the door behind him.

He makes his way down to the kitchen and stares out at the dark shadow of the preserve. They should get a dog, he thinks, not for the first time, but with Derek’s being a wolf, his mate has an instinctual aversion to the suggestion. 

Derek wakes up to an empty bed. Stiles’ side is cool to the touch telling Derek that his mate has been out of bed for a while. He listens, focusing on the steady breathing of his children before he finds Stiles. Somewhere in the kitchen probably overthinking. He knows his omega is stressed and what usually helps him calm down, he's banned for months. It hasn't helped that during Derek's recovery from wolfsbane poisoning, they didn't have sex for almost the same amount of time bringing the grand total of almost five months of abstinence. 

 

He makes his way to the kitchen and watches as Stiles sips on tea as he stares outside the window. 

“Babe?” Derek whispers softly, hoping not to startle his fiancé. 

Despite hearing the soft sound of Derek’s feet on the stairs, Stiles jumps. He turns around and gives his mate a tight smile. “Sorry if I woke you. I couldn't sleep.” 

Derek crosses the kitchen towards his mate and wraps him in a tight embrace. “Talk to me,” he mumbles against Stiles neck. 

“I'm just anxious,” Stiles says finally. “A wedding is literally the biggest event I've ever planned, and I want it to be perfect.” 

“It will be. Our family will be there. And we're going to express our love and commitment for each other,” Derek punctuates his points with an open mouth kiss on Stiles’ neck and jaw. “It's going to be perfect because it's you, the kids, and me. Together. Just breathe, okay?”

Derek slides his hands up and down Stiles’ back, trying to massage some of the tension away. 

“Let's do something crazy,” Stiles says, biting at Derek’s bottom lip.

Derek's hands dig onto Stiles’ hips, trying to slow his heartbeat. “As crazy as breaking your no sex rule?” Derek groans and nips at Stiles’ neck. 

“Nice try,” Stiles says with a quiet laugh. Taking Derek by the hand, he drags him out the back door. 

They walk in silence across the yard and into the preserve. The moon provides little glow tonight, as they still have about two weeks before it's full again. 

Stiles stops in no particular spot, but when he does, he turns to face Derek and says, “This is where we first met.” 

Derek tenses slightly, and pulls strength from the closeness of Stiles. “It wasn't the most romantic setting,” he avoids looking around, focusing his sights on the moon. 

“Well, Scott and I weren't exactly hoping you'd find us that day.” 

“And I wasn't expecting to find two young delinquents on private property,” he smirks. 

“Aren't you glad you did?” Stiles smiles wide and leans in to plant a loud kiss on Derek’s mouth. 

“Hmm,” Derek pulls on Stiles’ bottom lip. “You're the best thing I ever stumbled on. I love you, baby.”

“I love you more.” He steps into Derek’s space and wraps his arms around him. “Can we just skip to Sunday morning?” By that time, they’ll be on their way to the Maldives. “Except for how much I'm going to cry when I leave my babies behind for the week.” 

“They're going to be fine, Stiles. We have the option of staying longer if we get there and you decide you love it.” Derek wraps his arms around his mate. “I honestly can't wait.”

“You know what I can't wait for?” Stiles deliberately presses his hips into Derek’s. He wants nothing more than to sink to his knees and take his mate into his mouth, but he holds fast to his decision. 

Derek growls playfully and enjoys Stiles’ teasing. He slides his hand to Stiles’ plump ass and puts soft pressure against the seam of his sleep pants. “Your rule.”

Laughing, Stiles pushes Derek away. “And it's staying!” Knowing it will incite Derek’s wolf, he takes off at a run through the woods. 

Derek laughs as Stiles stumbles around, cursing under his breath when he trips over a root. He gives his mate a few minutes before he takes after him, enjoying the freedom and playfulness. 

He catches up to Stiles fairly quickly and picks him up around his waist to hoist him up over Derek's shoulders. The sound of Stiles’ laughter echoes through the forest as Derek makes his way back to their house. 

“No fair! This is cheating!” But Stiles is laughing and contentment radiates from his every pore. 

Derek sets him down in the entryway and Stiles feels lighter. 

“I love you.” He reels Derek in for another kiss. “You're the peanut butter to my jelly.” 

Derek gives him a droll look before he leans forward and kisses Stiles again. “I love you. I'm glad I'm your nut,” Derek tries to keep a straight face but it's a losing battle with the look on Stiles’ face. 

“Just because you want to bust one in my ass…” Stiles smothers his laugher against Derek’s chest. “Shh, you're gonna wake the kids.” His bare feet are cold and wet, so he steps into Derek’s much warmer ones. “Come on, Big D, take me back to bed.” 

“And not in the fun way,” he smiles when he says it. He grabs Stiles and carries him bridal style over their threshold. “Feel better?” He looks down as he feels Stiles smile against his chest. 

“So much better.” He lets out a contented sigh as Derek lays him in the bed and crawls in beside him. 

 

Friday

Despite being up with Derek a butt fuck o’clock in the morning (without the butt fucking, of course), Stiles is wide awake at 5:30 and drinking coffee to stay that way. There's still an hour before the older boys need to be up, and Stiles has a lot of work to do. In front of him is a list of things from “make sure Dad has suit” to “don't forget to pack sunscreen.” He's sure he'll end up spending half the honeymoon recuperating sleep, even though they hired a wedding planner. 

Derek walks into the kitchen, earbuds hanging from his neck and sweat clinging to his tank top. “Hey,” he calls out as he makes his way to their Keurig. 

“Are you okay?” Derek frowns as Stiles continues to stare at his to do list. 

“Huh?” Belatedly, Stiles looks up at his mate. 

Derek leaves his coffee to fend for itself and he walks up to Stiles and gently massages his tense shoulders. “Getting cold feet?” He teases, hoping that it will diffuse some of the tension. 

“What?” Stiles asks, surprised. “No, no, I'm just trying to get everything done in time.”

“Stiles,” Derek groans, frustrated. “This is why we hired Dawn. They have to be the ones to make sure everything is done on time. You’re supposed to relax. Have breakfast with our kids. . .” Derek trails off. 

“The kids!” Stiles shoots up out of his chair. “Oh my god I forgot to get Conor’s shoes!” 

Derek grabs Stiles and pulls him back into his body. “Conor has his shoes. You told me to get them while I took him for his fitting last week. It's fine, okay? Breathe a little.”

“I'm trying. I just have so much to do and so little time.”

“Stiles!” Derek bangs his head against the cupboard gently, frustrated and trying to be patient. 

Stiles jumps in surprise. 

“Baby, go get dressed. Isaac will be here in an hour. Dawn is taking care of everything. You're not allowed back until it's time to get ready for tonight's rehearsal dinner. I love you but you need to go,” Derek kisses Stiles cheek to minimize the effects of his words. 

Stiles’s eyes grow wide with fear. He whimpers and reaches for his list, only to find that Derek has snatched it away. “But how am I going to--”

“You don't have to do anything. All you have to do is show up. I'll be taking care of getting the kids to school and then ready for tonight.”

“But the cake--”

“Nope,” Derek cuts him off.

“My dad?” Stiles tries again.

“John will be here to make the kids his blueberry pancakes. And yes he has his suit ready. Fitted. It's done.”

“Joint shower before you kick me out?” 

“Mmmm,” Derek leans into his mate with a wicked twinkle in his eyes. “I think we can arrange that before the kids wake up.” 

Smiling wickedly, Stiles grabs Derek’s hand and drags him up the stairs.

*

The massage really does take Stiles’s mind off things, and by the time Isaac drops him off at the house, he’s way more relaxed than he had been that morning. He probably would have fallen asleep, too, if it hadn’t been for Isaac chattering about Addie and Scott and Allison. 

Stiles unlocks the door, steps inside, and his jaw drops. 

Lined up at the foot of the stairs like the von Trapp children are Stiles’s darlings--Conor, Teddy, Natalia, Remy, and Lucy. They’re all wearing the nice clothes Stiles had picked out for them. They’re clean, hair brushed, shoes on, and ready to go. Stiles wants to fall to the floor and weep with joy. 

Out from the kitchen steps Derek fiddling with the cuff of his suit jacket. His own dark hair is combed back and Stiles can see his mate brushed a little product into it. 

Suddenly, Stiles feels woefully underdressed in his shorts and flip-flops. 

Derek smiles fondly at the stupefied expression on Stiles’s face. “Did you have a good time?” Derek asks as he walks towards his fiancé. 

Stiles practically falls into Derek’s arms to kiss him. “You are incredible. And you guys are so well behaved!” He leans down to hug and kiss each of his children, and it’s Remy who lets the cat out of the bag. 

“Daddy said we don’t got any cake at the wedding if we were bad.” 

“Really, Daddy?” Stiles raises an eyebrow, but he’s smiling. 

Derek shrugs, completely unphased. “They didn't want to get in the bath and Natalia pitched a fit that would have put you to shame. So, no cake for them if they continued that behavior.” 

Derek watches Stiles, relaxed and the frown lines he had in the morning are gone. “I did good, didn't I, baby?” He grins cheekily at the omega. 

“You did great.” Stiles squats down in front of his eldest daughter. “Why didn’t you want to get in the bath?” 

The 7-year-old doesn’t meet his eyes. 

“Natalia.” 

She shrugs. 

“You need to be good for Daddy, okay? Not just when Mommy’s home.” 

“Hence no cake,” Derek says sternly, eyeing his daughter. 

“If she was bad,” Stiles clarifies. “But she’s dressed and clean. Right?” The thought of excluding Natalia from cake at the wedding makes him want to cry for her. 

“Her behavior . . . improved, but she decided she was not talking to me and that she wished I wasn't her dad,” Derek tries to shrug the hurt away. 

Stiles looks back at Natalia. “Did you say you wished Daddy wasn’t your dad?” 

Staring at her little black shoes, Natalia nods. 

“Look at me.” 

Slowly, Natalia raises her face. 

“How would you feel if Daddy said he wished you weren’t his daughter? Or if Papa said he wished you weren’t his granddaughter?” 

Natalia’s eyes begin to well up with tears, and Stiles’s heart constricts. 

“You wouldn’t like it, would you?” 

She shakes her head. 

“Then you need to apologize to your father.” 

Sniffling and sobbing, Natalia looks at Derek. “I’m sorry, Daddy.” 

“Come here, baby girl,” he says gently as he squats down for her. He doesn't realize how much she's grown until she launches herself at him. Her little body is shaking and it breaks Derek's heart. “It's okay, baby. You were angry. Daddy understands. I love you so much.” 

He brushes her hair away from her face and wipes the tears with his hand. “You know Daddy loves you. No matter what,” he kisses her cheek and sets her down. 

“Go wash your face while Mommy gets ready and I’ll give you guys a piggyback ride to the car,” he chuckles as Lucy squees in delight. 

“Go get ready,” he whispers to Stiles. 

Pecking another kiss on Derek’s lips, Stiles ruffles Conor’s hair and heads upstairs. He takes a quick shower, jumps into his suit, and rubs some product into his hair. One last look in the mirror shows that he looks good enough, and he joins his family in the foyer. 

“Are we ready?” he asks, giving them all a wide smile. 

Derek stares at Stiles and falls in love all over again. He's always been beautiful, but he's radiating so much love and happiness, it shatters Derek's heart and puts it back together in the best possible way. 

“You're so beautiful,” Derek whispers before he can stop himself. Remy giggles, and chants beautiful to his siblings but Derek only has eyes for Stiles at the moment. 

As much as Derek has been telling everyone and himself that the wedding was for Stiles. That he agreed to the human tradition for his mate, but now Derek is nervous and excited to solidify their commitment in front of their friends. Their bonding was intimate and just for the two of them, but now, their union will be public and Derek couldn't be more proud. 

He can’t wait to call Stiles his wife in front of their loved ones. 

*

The wind blows softly as Stiles, Derek, and their bridal party line up where Dawn puts them. From atop the cliff, they can hear the ocean waves crashing against the beach below. It’s the perfect place for their wedding. 

“Okay, so Stiles, we’ll have your parents . . . ”

John and Melissa step forward. 

“So Ida will say . . . ”

“Who gives their blessing for this Omega to be joined in union with this man?” 

“And then you’ll say . . . ”

“We do,” John and Melissa answer in unison. 

“And Derek doesn’t have anyone to give him away so we’ll--”

Stiles makes a noise in his throat and shakes his head. 

“Actually . . . ” Since everyone’s attention was focused on Dawn, Cora had managed to sneak up on the group. 

“Aunt Cora!” The children shrieked and fell over each other in their excitement to reach her for hugs.

“Hey, munchkin pack!” Cora braces herself for the oncoming tackle. She snuggles and scent marks each of her nieces and nephews before she looks up at a stunned Derek. Her big brother is such a dork. 

“Derbear!” She grins mischievously at him, knowing how much he hates that nickname. “This little talkative, hyperactive birdie told me that it had to be a surprise,” she explains as she leans forward to hug her big brother. 

“I'm sorry I told you I couldn't come,” she whispers for only Derek’s ears. 

Derek hugs her tightly, a heaviness he never realized was on him completely disappearing. He smiles at her, knowing how much she enjoys messing with him. “I'm so glad you came!”

Cora steps back and turns to her soon-to-be sister-in-law. She smiles wickedly before she greets him, too. “Spazlinski,” she jokes. “Thanks for setting this up. I didn't think he'd buy the fact that I wouldn't make my only brother’s wedding but he did. I owe you that hundred.”

Grinning wide, Stiles says, “I think we can call it even.” 

“Okay.” Cora flaps her hands to move the children off her legs. “I don't mean to hold this shindig up. We have plenty of time to catch up tonight.” She gives Dawn a meaningful look. “So then I say that I, Cora Hale, of the Hale Pack, give Derek to marry this Omega.” 

The rest of the rehearsal goes smoothly from there. Stiles and Derek walk through their vows (without actually saying them) and their family cheers when they kiss at the end.

“And then Stiles and Derek will recess down the aisle, followed by Scott and Conor and the rest of the bridal party in reverse order.”

At the end of the “aisle,” Stiles calls back to his children. “Who’s hungry!”

A chorus of “me!” answers his question. 

Laughing, Stiles pulls Derek in for another kiss. “Let's go feed our brood.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! The wedding is next!
> 
> But serious question: Are you guys okay with getting chapter 1 of Conor WITH spoilers for Nuptial? Or should we hold off?


	10. Wedding Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And they lived happily ever after.

Isaac begins his trek around the partition and towards the rest of the wedding party. That’s when Stiles’s anxiety really begins to set in. He took an Ambien earlier in the morning, at the behest of his parents and Derek. They’d spent the night together despite what “tradition” recommended. Dawn suggested they spend the night before the wedding apart, and Stiles and Derek both nearly bit her head off at just the mention. For over a decade now, they had slept beside one another, and Stiles was completely unwilling to sacrifice that, especially for some old wives’ tale that it would give them bad luck for their marriage or something equally stupid. 

Stupid would have been tossing and turning all night because he didn’t have Derek’s heartbeat in his ear to lull him to sleep. Stiles had never been keen on what people thought he “should do,” and his marriage absolutely wasn’t going to be built on other people’s opinions. 

“Scotty, do we have--” 

“Yes,” Scott says with finality. He takes his place, awaiting his cue. “It’s fine, Stiles. Everything is fine, and Derek is out there waiting for you.” As Dawn gives Scott the signal to start walking, he leans in and gives Stiles a kiss on the cheek. 

Except for Dawn, he was alone. 

Taking a deep breath, Stiles lets it out slowly. He can do this. The bouquet in his hand is damp with sweat. 

“It’s time, Honey,” Dawn whispers gently, giving him a little nudge. 

He can do this. He’s not going to trip on the hem of his gown. He can do this. 

Clutching the flowers to his chest, Stiles rounds the partition. The walk to the altar feels like miles. Beyond the crowd of people watching, waiting, Stiles sees Derek standing there in his dun linen suit, and the world narrows to him. 

“Mommy looks beautiful,” Conor and Teddy whisper to each other and Derek looks up. His breath catches and he feels his heart beat fast as he sees the love of his life in his omega gown. 

“Wow,” he breathes and just stares at his mate. Stiles looks as nervous as Derek feels but they meet each other’s eyes and the world feels back in focus. Derek smiles reassuringly at his omega as he gets closer, hoping Stiles knows how much he's loved. . 

He holds his hand out to Stiles as the omega stands before him and he can't help but bring them to his lips for a kiss. “You're absolutely stunning,” he's breathless, love, anticipation, their entire future coming at him all at once. 

Stiles gives his bouquet to Scott as Derek takes his hands. He can’t stop smiling at the Alpha in front of him. The ceremony passes faster than he could have imagined. Suddenly, the officiant is asking for his vows. Licking his lips, Stiles begins his rehearsed speech. 

“Derek, from the moment I met you, I knew there was something special about you. Even if you looked like you wanted to kill me.” The crowd around them chuckled. “Ten years later, you’re the father of my five beautiful children, and I’m proud to call you my mate. Today, I’ll be able to call you my husband.” Tears spring to his eyes, and Stiles has to pause so he can wipe them away. “My only regret is that my mom isn’t here today, but I know she’d take one look at you and ask what you were thinking.” Another chuckle, this one softer. “All I can say is that I promise to honor you and love you until the day I die. You are my world, Derek Hale, and I’m nothing without you.” 

Derek feels his heart clench with emotion. He knows that what Stiles is saying, is everything they've meant to each other this past decade. When the officiate addresses him, he shifts closer to his mate, makes sure he's looking into Stiles’ beautiful eyes. 

“My beloved Stiles, the past ten years I've spent with you have been the best years of my life. You met a broken and angry man, but with your love, patience, and zest for life, you've helped me heal in ways I never thought I could. You've pushed me to not only be a better man, but a better alpha, partner, and father. I want you to know that you and our beautiful children are my entire world. I love you now more than I did yesterday, and I know tomorrow and all the days to come I will continue to love you more and more ever after. My love. My wife. My soulmate.”

When Derek finishes, Stiles has tears rolling down his cheeks. He blushes, chuckles, and hurriedly wipes them away. 

“May I have the rings, please?” 

When Remy doesn’t move, Conor nudges him. “Give Daddy the rings,” he says. 

“Oh.” Remy opens his little fist and holds out the two gold rings he’s been clutching the entire time. 

Stiles and Derek each take their partner’s rings. As Derek slides the band onto his finger, Stiles feels like everything has finally slotted into place. This moment, this is what he’s been waiting for. 

“And now, with the power invested in me by the State of California, I now pronounce you married. You may kiss.” 

Derek pulls Stiles to him and dips him while they kiss. Their friends and family cheer and clap, but all Derek cares about right now is his husband. He holds him there longer than is probably socially appropriate, and when he rights Stiles’ stance, they're both smiling. 

Derek mouths _I love you_ and holds his hand before turning them both to look at the crowd. 

“We’re married!” Stiles crows, thrusting their joined hands into the air. 

*

By the end of the night, Stiles was exhausted, and more than ready to escape early with Derek. Before they made their grand exit to the waiting Town Car, Stiles gathered his children around him. 

“Remember Mommy told you he and Daddy are going to be gone for 10 days? You guys are going home with Granny and Papa tonight, okay? So be good. Conor, you’re the oldest, so I want you to look after your brothers and sisters. Give me a hug.” 

Trying to quell the anxiety churning in his gut, Stiles hugged each of his children in turn.

“Dada, I want go with you,” Lucy whines as she pulls Stiles’ hand away from Derek. 

Derek looks at Stiles for help but he can already see how emotional the thought of leaving their children is making his wife. Derek kneels down to pull Lucy close while he looks at their children. “Mommy and daddy are going away for a few days so you guys can have fun at Papa’s house and help Granny Meli make cookies and cakes,” he starts, watching as the older kids get excited at the prospect of all that sugar. Remy is looking at Lucy, and as always taking his cues from her. 

“Love you, Mom. Love you, Dad,” Conor says stoically, grabbing Teddy and Natalia's hand. “Granny Meli is going to take us to the circus tomorrow so we should go to sleep.”

Derek smiles at his son and gives all three a hug before they hug Stiles and make their way to John and Melissa. 

Remy is standing by Stiles, sucking his thumb and leaning into his mom while Lucy is holding Derek tightly. “Baby girl, let's go to Papa, yeah?”

“No!” Lucy stomps her foot. “Mommy go to Papa. I go with you.”

Derek looks to Stiles for help but his wife is biting his lip and Derek can smell the tears Stiles is trying to hide. Derek picks Lucy up and hugs her tight while he wraps his free arm around Stiles’s waist, Remy between them. “Let's follow the kids to their grandparents.”

Stiles’s parents are wearing similar looks of sympathy as Stiles and Derek troop over with the kids.

Melissa reaches for Teddy, and he allows himself to be lifted into her arms. “You wanna blow bubbles?” she asks, showing him the little bottle in her hands. 

Teddy lights up and reaches for it, but she stays him. “We’re gonna go outside in just a minute.” 

“I wanna blow bubbles!” Teddy whines. 

“Outside,” Stiles reminds him. He hands Teddy, Conor, and Natalia their own bottles because he knows he can trust them, though he’s wary about Teddy spilling his--on himself or one of his siblings. 

Derek tries to put Lucy on the floor but she refuses, clutching harder to the collar of his shirt. “Baby, you love bubbles,” he says gently. 

“No bubbles. My dada.” She huffs. Remy looks torn between following his twin’s lead or joining the rest of his siblings for a fun bubble fest. 

“Rem, Mommy has your bottle of bubbles. Do you want to join Meli and Conor for some bubble fun?”

Remy nods but hesitates because Lucy is working herself up to a tantrum. Derek winks at his son and pushes him towards his siblings and nods to Stiles to give him his own bottle. 

“Melissa, would you mind taking them so they can start playing with their bubbles. It's not fair they have to wait because Lucy is being difficult.”

Melissa nods. She and John say their goodbyes and walk the children to the fenced in courtyard where they can play safely. It's hard to watch his kids go and know he won't see them for over a week. 

“Lucy,” he calls to his daughter. She buries her face in Derek's neck and refuses to let go. 

“Help me,” he whispers to Stiles. 

“Lucy,” Stiles says in a tone just this side of stern. 

She lifts her face to look at him. 

“You have to let Daddy go. We’re not going to be gone forever, I promise. You stay with Granny and Papa for 10 days and we’ll be back. Tell you what.” He unknots the tie from around Derek’s neck, giving his husband a trust me look. He loops the tie around Lucy’s much smaller neck, and it hangs to her knees. “Will you hang on to Daddy’s tie for me? He’s going to need it when we get back.” 

“My dada?” Lucy clutches the tie with one hand and presses it against her little chest. 

“He's never going to stop being your Daddy,” Stiles says gently.

“No go. Dada stay with Lucy,” she begs her mom. “Pwease, mama.”

“Lucy,” Derek says gently as he hugs her tightly. “Daddy loves you and I'm going to hand you a very important responsibility, okay?” He meets his daughter’s eyes. 

“I need you to take care of this for me,” following Stiles’ lead, he holds the tie to his cheek and rubs it against himself to scent it. “Daddy needs it when I get back and I only trust you. Understand?”

Lucy's bottom lip trembles, but she nods as she hugs her father. She wiggles down his body and goes to Stiles with her hand out. “Bubbas?”

“Bubbles.” Stiles hands the bottle over and watches his daughter scampers over to his siblings. This is just the first of many times he'll watch her walk away, and his heart breaks just a little bit. 

He slides his hand into Derek’s and kisses the corner of his mouth. “Are you ready?” 

“ _Yes_ ,” comes the instant reply. He pulls Stiles flush to him and slides his hand on his cheek. “I wasn't prepared for that to be so hard,” he confesses. 

“Me either.” Stiles gives a nervous glance to their children. “Honestly, I think we need to go now, or I'm not going to be able to.” 

Derek wraps his arm around Stiles’ waist, the dress makes it slightly awkward but Derek does not care. He and Stiles walk to the exit together towards where their Town Car will take them to the honeymoon suite he booked as a surprise to his new wife.

The driver is standing by the door, ready to attend to them immediately when Derek stops and turns back to their friends and family. “Thank you for being a part of our special day,” he tells the crowd, feeling awkward to be addressing so many people at once. He looks to Stiles and gestures for him to say a few words. 

Stiles clears his throat. “I'm not the romantic one, so, uh thanks for coming. We’re going to the Maldives!” Grabbing Derek by the lapels, Stiles gives him a kiss that he is sure makes his parents cover their children's eyes. To the hoots and hollers of the crowd, he climbs into the car and pulls Derek in after him. 

“I have a surprise for you, my dear wife,” Derek smirks into the darkness of their car, the reception went on for a long time. 

“Oh, really, my dear husband?” Stiles snuggles closer. He's exhausted, but he's hoping he can stay up long enough to get on the plane.

Derek pulls out a blindfold from his pocket and hands it to Stiles. “Put this on,” he directs.

“Kinky.” But Stiles does as he's told.

“Mm, only if you want it to be,” he leans forward to kiss Stiles’ cheek. 

They get to the hotel in no time. Derek helps Stiles out of the car, and guides him through the doors. It’s late so the reception area is empty, and he already picked up the key earlier that day. 

Derek sweeps Stiles off his feet and carries him, appropriately, bridal style towards the elevator. He booked the honeymoon sweet as a surprise for his mate, but now Derek isn’t so sure it was a good idea. They’re both sad and nervous to leave their children for so long. 

Derek is waiting for the elevator when he looks at Stiles and smiles. “I’m so fucking happy to be your husband,” he confesses as the doors swing open and he steps through, omega still in his arms.

“Yeah, but uh, honey, I don't think they'll let you carry me through the security line like this.”

Derek just shakes his head as the elevator opens up to their room. He had Isaac and Dawn decorated the space with tea lights to make it as romantic as he could. Stiles deserves the best, after all.

“Take off the blindfold, baby,” he nudges at his temple. 

Stiles pulls off the blindfold and his breath catches in his throat. “Oh my god. Der, this is…” He turns his head to kiss Derek again. This is unbelievable. 

“Do you like it?” he asks, unsure. Derek wasn’t sure if it was too cheesy or if Stiles would think it’s romantic enough for their first night as a married couple.

Stiles’s expression softens as he cups Derek's cheek. “It's perfect.”

Derek hugs Stiles close, and scents him. All he wants to do is show how much he loves his mate but he also understands how hard leaving their kids are for his omega, “We have to leave by six to make it to airport on time,” he mentions as he starts undoing his buttons. Derek is so ready to get out of the suit.

Stiles smacks at his hands. “That's for me.” He takes over, moving swiftly, but undoing Derek’s buttons all the same. 

“I didn’t realize I was wrapped,” Derek grins.

Stiles gestures at his own attire. “You think I'm in a fucking dress for my own benefit? I am not a dress-wearing Omega. This is all for you.”

Derek’s grin turns mischievous. “When I first saw you walking down the aisle, all I wanted to do was lift your dress and just fuck you with it on.”

Stiles gathers the skirt of his dress in one hand and turns around so Derek can see the word “Wifey” written in cursive across his white panties.

Derek bursts into laughter as he reads the word scrolled on Stiles’ bridal panties. He reaches out and traces a finger through every swoop and swirl of the word.

“Well it wasn't supposed to be funny.” Stiles scowls over his shoulder. 

Derek kneels down and kisses a clothed cheek. “It’s perfect,” he says reverently. He peppers kisses on the small of Stiles’ back as he slowly pulls the underwear down Stiles’ legs. 

“I’m going to feast on your ass until you come,” Derek groans as he bites gently on the exposed flesh,

Stiles can't help it. He knows Derek is trying to be sexy and romantic, but he bursts out laughing. “Feast on my ass, Baby!” 

Derek huffs in irritation and brings a hand down hard on Stiles’ ass. 

“Hey!” Stiles grouses. “More feasting, less spanking.” 

“Keep that up and I’ll lose my appetite,” he continues, knowing it’s just giving Stiles more fuel to irritate and make fun of him.

Wisely, Stiles clamps his teeth shut.

He spreads his omega’s ass cheeks and stares at the glistening hole before he sweeps his tongue over it. He repeats the action, coaxing slick to build up before he goes in deeper.

Groaning, Stiles slaps one hand against the wall to keep himself upright. He shifts onto his toes so he can push back against Derek’s mouth. “Fuck yes, baby. Eat my ass.” 

Derek stabs his tongue into the rim, feeling the muscles loosen and clench around him. He does it again, fucking Stiles with his tongue and encouraging his mate to take his pleasure.

He pulls back a little and rubs his thumb against Stiles’ hole, adding pressure but never pressing in. “I want you to fuck yourself on my tongue while you jerk yourself off. Do you think you can take my knot without more prep?”

“I can--oh, fuck--I can try.” 

“Good,” Derek leans forward and tongues at Stiles, moving the omega’s hips to encourage him to move on his tongue. Derek reaches forward, gently grabbing Stiles balls and playing with them as his mouth keeps working.

Dropping his skirt, Stiles reaches for his dick. He has to fight with several layers of fabric to get to it, but when he closes his hand around the shaft, he lets out a satisfied groan. 

Derek uses his thumbs to spread his omega’s hole as he continues to tongue fuck him. He slides his thumbs in, feeling the moan and clench of Stiles rim around his fingers. Derek slides his thumb deeper, finding Stiles’ prostate and massaging and adding steady pressure to the small numb, coaxing his wife to orgasm. 

“Oh fuck, oh Derek. Oh oh oh oh my god. Oh fuck fuck, Der--” Panting and whimpering, Stiles cums in ropes, painting the underside of his skirt. 

Derek holds Stiles up as he falls limp after his orgasm. He guides the omega to sit on the bed and helps him remove the dress gently to not rip the delicate fabric. 

“I love you,” he whispers against Stiles’ skin as Derek helps him settle on the bed. He leaves kisses and nibbles at the skin he can reach before he settles Stiles’ knees on his shoulders. “Is this good? I want to see your face.”

“This is so good.” Stiles cradles Derek’s face in his hands. He rubs his thumbs over the bristly ridges of Derek’s cheekbones. “I love you.” He pulls Derek in for a kiss. “Fuck me now?”

“Mmm,” he hums in agreement as he slowly pushes into the wet heat. Derek curses and has to stop for a moment, feeling overwhelmed by the day. “I love you so fucking much,” he whispers as he pulls himself together and starts thrusting at a steady pace. 

Wrapping his arms around Derek’s neck, Stiles pulls them close to one another. He clenches and unclenches as Derek thrusts inside of him. Over the years, their lovemaking has gotten more finessed, but it's also gotten better as they learned each other's bodies. 

“ _Shit_ ,” Derek moans as he feels Stiles contract around him. He picks up the pace, angling his hips to stimulate at Stiles’s prostate, bringing them both over the edge. His final thrust, his knot locks them together and Derek hugs Stiles to his body to flip them over.

“Always so sexy,” Derek kisses Stiles cheek.

“When I'm hanging off your knot?” Stiles jests. He places a series of kisses over Derek’s chest. “Are you glad it's over? The wedding, I mean.”

“Yes,” Derek answers honestly. “You were so stressed for so long. I’m glad we’ll be able to just go away and relax after all of this.” He hugs Stiles closer. “Why don’t you sleep and I will take care of you before our flight.”

Stiles flings his arms out dramatically, for it’s all he can move. “But I want to enjoy our heart-shaped bathtub! _Do_ we have a heart-shaped bathtub?”

“We have a waterfall bath, if I'm not mistaken” Derek murmurs into his hair. “We could try it out if you don't fall asleep.”

“I'm wide awake!” Stiles announces. “Deflate your knot! Where's my adderall?” He wants in that waterfall _now_.

“Okay, let me get on that right now,” Derek rolls his eyes. Derek groans lousy and grits his teeth. “If you keep squirming, this will --fuck-- take longer, baby.”

Stiles bares his teeth. “Think about something unsexy. My dad in a thong.”

“That is absolutely disgusting,” he frowns trying to get the image out his mind. “Wow, that worked so well my cock is trying to shrivel up and die.”

“Yeah except it's not.” Stiles clenches around the knot still lodged firmly in his ass. “Baby,” he whines, “I want my bath.”

“You're never disappointed with my knot,” he sighs as he shifts to move to the edge of the bed. He plants his feet firmly on the floor, tucks his hands on Stiles’s ass and stands up. “My wife wants his bath, so that's what he's getting,” he grumbles as he waddles through the room to the bathroom. Every shift of their bodies adds another sensation to his knot and it takes all his strength for his legs not to buckle from over stimulation. 

Stiles is silent and he hardly breathes the whole way to the tub. He trusts Derek, but he's terrified they're going to fall (or that _he_ is going to fall). “How are you gonna turn the water on?” he asks in a small voice. 

“They're motion censored,” Derek explains as he steadily and carefully make their way down the steps of the tub. “I'm going to sit down so I need you to hold on tight and for fucks sakes please stop squirming.”

Stiles does stop breathing then. He's afraid that Derek is going to drop him and break his dick or something. 

It takes some finagling but Derek is able to get them both submerged in the giant bath tub. He reclines back and gets comfortable before letting out a sigh of relief. 

“You're safe now,” Derek grumbles. “I can't believe you thought I'd drop you.”

The water feels amazing around them, and he feels weightless despite being in his mate’s lap. “Derek,” Stiles says indignantly. “I'm a mother and a wife. What would my children do if you killed me?” 

“Collect your life insurance,” he answers deadpan. 

Slack jawed, Stiles stares at him. “If I wasn't stuck on your knot right now, I’d…” He fumbles. “I’d have a better comeback!”

Derek laughs and hugs Stiles to him. “We’d fall apart without you, silly.”

Lying his head on Derek’s collar, Stiles lets out a soft sigh. “I love you.”

They lay there long enough for Derek’s knot to deflate and he slips out of Stiles’ body. Derek massages his mate’s thighs, to help the blood flow; he knows how hard it can be to be in that position for too long. 

“Do you want to sit on seat with the jets?

“Fuck yeah, I do!” He doesn't drop f-bombs often, but he's too excited to control himself. Like one of the twins might do, Stiles practically swims across the pool-sized tub to settle himself across one of the other seats. “Okay, beam me up, Derry!”

Derek rolls his eyes and ignores Stiles’ reference. He got it wrong, anyway. He submerges himself deeper and angles his back so the jet stream can hit him on the sore parts. 

“We depart to the airport at 5:30, okay? I'm only staying a little bit longer. It's been a long day, baby.” Derek had to field Stiles’ anxiety for most of the day. 

“Dereeeeek.” Stiles leaves his mouth open too far and accidentally sucks up water that he spits back out. “Okay, fine. It's not like we're going to Oklahoma for our honeymoon. Will you wash my back before we get out, at least?”

“Baby,” Derek opens his arms to accommodate Stiles between them. “I know you want to be a mermaid but it's almost two in the morning. Let me help you get cleaned up, come here.”

Stiles swims back over to Derek. The clean each other up, albeit a bit quickly. By the time they're dry and snuggled back in bed, Stiles can feel his eyes slamming closed. Getting up in the morning is going to suck. His last thought before he falls asleep is how much he enjoys the feeling of Derek’s wedding ring clicking against his.

 

***

 

Stiles clutches Derek’s hand. He's been nervous about this all day. 

The paper crinkles beneath him, and he lets out a long suffering sigh. The ticking on the wall is doing nothing to ease his nerves. 

“You're so impatient,” Derek chuckles quietly. 

“Four months is not impatient.” Stiles gives Derek his best side-eye. Their honeymoon had been wonderful, but now they had to deal with _this_.

“Maybe,” Derek concedes, “but it's not like we haven't been here before.” He leans forward and kisses Stiles’ cheek. “It's not like you didn't work hard for this.”

“You always know the right thing to say.” He leans in for another kiss just as the door opens. Embarrassed, he sits up straighter.

“Are you ready for the results?”

Derek holds Stiles’ hand, trying to ease the trembling. They're both nervous, having forgone results like these for the past ten years. 

He looks to Stiles, and instantly he's reassured. “We're ready,” he answers for both of them. 

Stiles is clutching Derek's hand so hard he almost doesn't register the words the first time. 

_A girl._

“We’re having a girl,” he says. The sound of his own voice is strange over the buzzing in his ears. 

Somehow, it's perfect. 

He looks at Derek, and there are tears in his eyes.

“Three of each,” Derek chokes on the words. He's so incredibly happy, he can't believe he's so lucky. He leans down to kiss the love of his life, putting every feeling he has in it. He won't ever be able to put into words how he feels about Stiles and their life together, but he knows there is no one else he'd rather be with. 

This is their life. A home full of love, a family filled with joy. 

“Six,” Stiles says, “Six is a good number. I think we should name her Chloe.”

 

And they did.

 

Fin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arver here! I just wanted to thank you all for sticking with us all these years, and for being so incredibly supportive <3.
> 
> Well, that's the end of Sterek's story, guys! I hope you all enjoyed this crazy ride. We have enjoyed writing it and look forward to you joining us in Conor's journey!
> 
> Moit here: ETA that all six kids (Chloe included) have been planned since the very beginning. It's amazing I kept her a secret for three years!

**Author's Note:**

> Handy dandy guide to the kiddos' ages that Arver and I both definitely need:
> 
> Conor, 8  
> Teddy, 6  
> Natalia, 5  
> Remy and Lucy, 4
> 
> We're on Tumblr [@moitmiller](moitmiller.tumblr.com) and [@arver7](arver7.tumblr.com), respectively.


End file.
